


Why Do the Stars Always Lead to You?

by Cominguproses13x, Dearlyfantastical5511



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Mentions Clexa, Modern Era, Multi, Recreational Drug Use, Rockband AU, mentions of drug use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-06-22 11:32:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 35,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15581022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cominguproses13x/pseuds/Cominguproses13x, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dearlyfantastical5511/pseuds/Dearlyfantastical5511
Summary: They aren’t supposed to fall. She’s too broken. He’s too scarred. Neither are ready to feel again. But then they stumble into each others life. Clarke with electric pink in her hair and a voice that’s screaming to be heard and Bellamy, a former rockstar with a cocky grin that she knows hides something deeper. Both aren’t ready to trust the other and it feels like they never will. For Clarke, opening up to Bellamy, the egotistical jerk with a crooked smile and freckles that remind her of the stars, seems like an impossibility. Bellamy trusting Clarke, the ice princess with impenetrable walls who shines as bright as the North Star, seems more likely to succumb to his demons. But when they sing together, their voices form constellations. And she’s never been one to stop searching the skies. And he’s never strayed from the bright lights of the stars.





	1. Everything Is Waiting for You Pt.1

**Author's Note:**

> This story will be written in Clarke and Bellamy's POV's and will be alternating throughout each chapter. I just want to thank cominguproses13x for being an amazing co- author on this very dear story!

The stars had always seemed endless to Clarke. Endless and just out of her reach, little eyes that gleamed and winked from above her as though they were teasing her for not being able to wrap her slight hands around them. So instead of grasping and holding onto one, she chose to count the infinities in the sky every night. It became her challenge every night before she would go to sleep the number would grow, and grow, and grow until the stars behind her eyes dimmed and dimmed and she would fall into dreams of fairy tales and monsters. She told her father about the habit one day when she was being driven to school, he answered six hours later at the school gate with a brand new Chevy and a quiet drive along a windy road to an open, secluded field filled with unrecognizable flowers that glowed in the blistering sun.

“No windows to stop you counting out here” he had whispered when she had given him a furrowed brow.

And so she counted. They lay out in the back of the truck for hours watching the sky turn from blue to pink to black until the only sources of light were the fireflies that danced lightyears away. Endless fireflies that she would never touch, never hold and never even see. This wouldn’t stop her from trying. They made a game of it; he would count the odds and she would count the evens until he saw her eyelids begin to flutter and her mouth open wide in periodic yawns. That night they fell asleep in the truck, wrapped up in the humid summer air and barely-there blankets while he hummed a soft tune, too angry to be anything she had ever heard.

“What’s that?” she slurred as her brain slowly shut down

“The stars that we listen to”

That was the night she fell in love with rock and roll. The night, in her dreamy subconscious, she decided to ditch the flute and beg her mother for a guitar. The night she knew those hopeful Disney songs would never connect to her the same way that beautifully tormented melody would.

The next day, her father delivered to her a tape looking about 15 years old, with its plastic faded to a musky grey and the edges worn into rounded corners; along with a vintage Sony Walkman that looked brand new. She took it and held it as though it was one of her stars. As she would if it were any of the numbers she had looked upon at night. She listened to every single track ten times over, carefully selecting her favorite until she chose the next on the following shuffle.

The next gift was a guitar, a varnished mahogany brown silhouette that hurt her fingers whenever she plucked at it. It was perfect. She had made it her goal to learn every single one of the songs within her mixtape and once she had learnt all of them, she moved onto the next that her father gave her, equally scratched, until she had a pile of about a dozen sitting in a locked jewelry box next to her bed. They became the soundtrack to her life, she was very rarely seen without the Walkman at arms-length and even when her mother presented her with an iPod containing all of her favorite songs, the Walkman remained at her side- the iPod thrown into her drawers with the rest of her mother’s attempts to buy her love.

She still counted the stars, every night through her narrow skylight, however from then on it was along to the album of another band, another story that screamed to be heard.

At 15 the Walkman broke. She had met a boy, with cute hair and a smile that leaned to one side, his bright eyes and round face so unknown to a girl who had grown up listening to the wounded and the fallen. She was curious. She allowed him to take the number of the cell that lived in her dusty drawer and the following night dug it out to reply to the text asking her on a date. It sparked something inside of her, something happy and hopeful that didn’t belong with the melodies that streamed through her headphones anymore.

_I’ll meet you there at six_

_C xx_

She replied nervously and spent the rest of the evening worrying and panicking about the fact that her curly hair wasn’t de-frizzing and her white dress made her shoulders look fat. He didn’t think so. He focused on the glow in her eyes that he knew the artificial lights in the arcade hadn’t caused.

Finn became her boyfriend after their first kiss. It was different to how her songs had said it would be. They said it was like fire and ice at the same time, filled with secrets and untold memories. That wasn’t it. It was a good first kiss as first kisses go. Lips remained closed and eyes were squeezed shut in anticipation. She returned to her room the same night to count the stars. This time she did it as she randomly strummed the strings of her guitar, creating soft harmonies out of thin air. She didn’t do much counting. Summer followed, along with many fizzy movie dates and walks along the hidden river behind his house and she slowly fell in love with the buzz she got when he looked at her. Clarke told him about the counting, he laughed and said _"It’s cute"_. She didn’t want it to be cute but let it go. Maybe some secrets were meant to stay a secret. She wrote songs that summer; acoustic and soft about the spring in her step and the gleam in her eyes from when she made him laugh. He never heard them. She had decided to play one on his birthday in mid September, but was stopped by the brunette that pushed her aside and leaped up to Finn. Miscommunication. That’s what he blamed it on. She didn’t want to know.

Instead, she took the Chevy that her father had recently taught her to drive and followed the track to the same field, now tarnished by the rust of Autumn. Red. It was all she saw, the anger at being so foolish and naïve to think she could fall without getting hurt. She could feel the adrenaline pumping through her finger tips along with the blood that seeped from her broken heart. The Walkman laid on the passenger seat, looking up at her with the chunky pause button pressed down. Deciding it was to blame, Clarke parked the car in the center of the field and hurled it out the window into the crisp night air, blinded by the tears that begun to streak down her face. She would allow herself to cry tonight. She lay her head against the tip of the steering wheel that was much too big for a 15 year old to control and watched as the exhales escaped in sporadic, heavy puffs. It took an hour to calm down, it took an hour to look away from the wrinkled leather and into the cloudy night sky that shielded the stars from view.

It was too quiet then. There was no bass and there was no harmony there was just the chirping of crickets in neighboring fields and the rumble of cars on surrounding roads. Clarke panicked for the second time that night and scrambled out of her truck to find the companion that she had cared after for seven years. It hadn’t been thrown far, and it was clearly visible over the short trim of now yellow grass but even in the darkness she could see the damage that had been done to it. The fresh dew had coated the casing and the door to the tapes had been removed from its hinges to lay beside the main frame. The tape- it was the first one she had been given- had been catapulted a few feet away and she scurried to assess the damage.

The tape was fine. 

But the Walkman looked like her heart.

~⭐️~

It had taken weeks to fix the little stereo, many afternoons in the truck with her father with warm cups of cocoa that nursed her back from the sting of heartbreak. By Christmas after many new songs had been written and the Walkman had been completely repaired, she felt normal again. She saw Finn now and then, across the halls but he always greeted her with the same sympathetic smile. It had taken him seven apologies to figure out she was not one to forgive easily.

The brunette on the other hand was a different story. She had practically jumped on Clarke the next day, demanding to know the reasons why Clarke felt it was right to steal another’s childhood love, but it had only taken a mere five minutes for Raven Reyes to realize how hurt Clarke had been by Finn’s lies. The two girls’ hearts mirrored the other in scars and bruises. After that they were inseparable.

Raven played bass, a beautiful rosy red guitar that matched her famous bike leathers, and Clarke knew that this was the person who she could show her music to. It was New Years Eve when they came home from a local house party, slightly tipsy and overwhelmingly giggly as they landed on Clarke’s bed in sync. They both looked up through the narrow skylight in the ceiling and watched how the stars danced around their own axis.

“I count them” Clarke whispered

“You can’t count them Clarke, they’re infinite.” Raven giggled back but the look in her eyes showed she understood, showed she knew what this meant to her

“I know. I know they’re just balls of gas but to me…” she couldn’t finish. What were they to her? Instead, she grabbed the guitar that was thrown across her pillow and began to strum the tune to her latest song. It was a challenge as the acoustics didn’t quite sound right when paired with the beautifully harsh melody, but somehow her fingers figured out what to do. 

Raven straightened and watched with a small grin on her face; as though she had just discovered what was inside Pandora’s box but didn’t quite know what to do with it.

“What’s that?” she asked cautiously; not wanting Clarke to stop playing.

“The stars that we listen to.” Clarke replied with a knowing smirk, her eyes closed in concentration.

“You made this up?”

“I think so, sometimes I get confused between what I hear inside my head and what I hear from my Walkman, but I think so.”

Raven plummeted her head back onto the pillow, content with the soft yet angry song that acted as some sort of lullaby. She watched the stars as she sat mere inches from Clarke; both knowing that they would have a hard time getting rid of the other. Somehow given the heartbreaking circumstances they seemed to fit together just right.

The Walkman broke for a second time when Clarke was twenty. She had met Lexa twelve months before at a poetry reading in a dingy bar on the wrong side of town. After one of Raven’s particularly bad breakups. Lexa had reminded Clarke of the girls in the songs, the ones that physically glowed with a dark radiance and had enough confidence to break not only your heart but your soul. Her bright eyes were the first thing Clarke noticed when they accidentally bumped into each other, spilling cheap beer down Lexa’s lacy minidress.

“I’m so sorry! I’ll pay for the dry cleaning I promise.” Clarke had fretted, worrying her bottom lips into shreds

“It’s fine, buy me another and we’ll call it even” Lexa had grinned back. The smile looked out of place on such a face with sharp cheekbones and eyes that could shoot daggers for miles, but that didn’t make it look any less beautiful.

Clarke knew she was gone from the minute she saw Lexa laugh. It was special, it sounded just like the base notes of her tracks, and Clarke wanted to hear it on a loop. Lexa didn’t laugh for many people, that was made very clear early on in the relationship but here she sat, just after pouring her heart out in fragmented tetrameter, laughing as though she could not feel the weight of the world on her shoulders.

They fell together. Hard. The storm of love that could only spark from the soul of a poet and the heart of a rock musician pulled both into the epicenter. They inspired each other, made the other want, need to be great. And yet, when the time came, just like every storm should, they reached their breaking point.

Clarke’s parents, who had been stealthily hidden from the view of Lexa and all her might, were now preening to get a glance at her. Clarke’s mother arranged a meal at some five star joint in the center of town that only sold portions fit for toddlers, decorated in small droplets of god knows what. Lexa had teased her,

“Most girls on their eighteenth birthday would want to exploit their adulthood. You know Clarke, you don’t have to go to this just because your mother wants you to.”

“It’s not like that Lexa. She’s trying to make an effort with us both. And, it’ll only be for a couple of hours and then I can come back to yours and get my birthday present,” Clarke winked while moving to sit on Lexa’s lap, effectively ending all means to a conversation.

The dinner hadn’t gone so smooth.

“I didn’t know you had tattoos Lexa."

“She designed them herself mom.”

“You write poetry for a living? Didn’t you want to get a real career?”

“Mom, it’s a full time gig.”

“What school are you going to?"

When Lexa had answered Abby's voice had been rich with disapproval.

"Really, Texas state?”

That had been the final straw, Clarke grabbed Lexa’s hand without once looking at her mother and marched straight out of the heavy glass doors that had enclosed them in the first place. They both remained silent on the drive home, once Clarke had parked her truck in Lexa’s driveway they sat to watch the stars.

 “She’s right you know Clarke, we aren’t right for each other.”

“We aren’t doing this. I am not going to let my mother dictate who I can or can’t be with. I’m old enough to make my own choices.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m not bad for you.” It came out as merely a whisper and Clarke thought she had imagined it until she saw the soft sheen in Lexa’s eyes that told her she meant what she said.

Clarke leaned in.

"I don’t care. I really don’t give a fuck Lexa. You’re the one I want, the one I want to be with, the one I love and there is nothing you can say that will convince me otherwise.”

Lexa looked stunned. Her wide eyes somehow grew wider, her eyebrows shooting up and her mouth dropped open. The blonde shot her a raised brow, questioning the surprise across her face.

“That’s the first time you’ve said that.”

“Said what?”

“You love me?” she whispered, her voice a mere shiver

“Do you even have to ask?” Clarke replied nervously, dropping her eyes and biting her lip in anticipation. She didn’t have to wait long before Lexa shot forward and they joined together, lips clashing and teeth knocking in clumsy passion.

After several moments of bliss, they parted and stared breathless into each other’s eyes.

"Come inside. I have something for you.”

Clarke followed curiously as they tiptoed up the stairs to the room on the far end of the small, humbled house. Lexa’s room was completely and utterly her, with navy blue walls lined with acres of books, sheltered by golden fairy lights. Upon the narrow single bed was a tiny box, carefully gift wrapped with a neat silver bow on top.

Clarke opened it carefully, watched intently by Lexa’s anxious eyes.

“You made me a tape?” She asked, looking up.

“Well…not exactly,” Lexa replied as she joined the blonde, their hips touching “I thought you should have your own you know? For your music. No Pink Floyd, no Nirvana, yours.”

Clarke looked back down to the tape flipping it over in her fingers as though it might shatter any second.

“I know it’s just a blank tape, probably not what you’re used to but I just thought it was time.”

“For what?” she whispered back, smiling slightly.

“For you to become your own artist.”

It was two hours later, when she was wrapped in the duvet of her own bed that the text came through.

_It’s not blank_

               _Huh?_

_The tape...I added something_

_Yeah?_

_I hope you don’t mind_

Clarke reached over to her bedside table where her Walkman sat patiently, holding the new tape. She pressed the play button and heard the calm, controlled speech. The tone Lexa would always take on when she was reciting

On the fifth line, Clarke realized she was speaking in French, and spent the first couple of listens translating it in her head but soon managed to understand the melodic words

C'est drôle comment quand je t'ai rencontré

Les vagues semblaient s'arrêter

Pour la lune a tourné son visage

Coulée d'ombres sur la mer dont le cadre ne pouvait pas s'adapter aux coins de mon coeur

Au lieu de cela, il a choisi d'éclairer le ciel

Alors que même lorsque les heures que nous passons ensemble deviennent sombres

Vos yeux tiennent la lueur de notre amour

Et j'espère à Dieu que je suis capable de le refléter

Et faisceau autant que les surfaces de votre âme

Car je me sens irisé quand je suis avec toi

Quand je t'aime

In English, she could tell the words were:

It’s funny how when I met you

The waves seemed to stop

For the moon turned his face

Casting shadows upon the sea whose frame could no longer fit the corners of my heart

Instead he chose to light the skies

So that even in our darkest hours, your eyes still hold the glow of our love

And I hope to God I am able to reflect it back

And beam as much as the surfaces of your soul do

For I feel iridescent when I am with you

When I love you

 

She fell asleep that night listening over and over to the soft poem, but not before replying with a simply crafted sentence:

pour moi tu es irisé

~ ⭐️ ~

 Things were good for so long, about nine months. As they had begun to plan their future. Clarke had decided to study pre-med, as her mother had hoped, at Texas State much to the disappointment of Abby Griffin who had hoped she would at some point attend an ivy league. They had begun to make arrangements to find an apartment. It was a magnetic kind of love, one that set her heart on fire and made her write music unaccustomed to her ears, full of sap and romance. Of course, this was all played on her cherished blue electric guitar accompanied by the drums and bass only she could picture in her mind.

 She hadn’t showed them to Lexa yet for none of them had quite captured the spark in their relationship but one day, after having a moment of inspiration she grabbed her Walkman along with the completed tape, the same one Lexa had given her months ago and told her parents where she was going.

“I’m heading over to Lexa’s.”

“I can drive you if you want, I felt like some air anyway.” her father replied, casting a glance to his wife who refused to meet either sets of eyes

“That’d be great, thanks.”

The drive was silent, until they passed a familiar field, one that Clarke had not returned to since she had her heartbroken for the first time. “What’re you listening to?” her dad asked, poking Clarke out of her daze

“Nothing. Actually, it’s a…um pretty recent one.”

He said nothing, just raised his eyebrow.

“Lexa made it for me.”

“She did?”

“Well not exactly. She bought it so that I could record my music.”

“Can I hear?” he asked eagerly, pulling over before she could reply.

“Yeah sure.”

They sat in silence as he slipped on the headphones and she watched his face carefully as he listened intently. She guessed the song had finished when he took them off and placed them back around her neck. He looked away for a moment, considering and Clarke’s heart dropped. But all tension was gone as soon as he turned back around and flashed her a wide smile

“It's good Clarke, it’s really good. You’re playing on this right?”

She nodded

“Well…it’s no Jimmy Page.”

“No?”

“No. It’s better.”

“Yeah?”

He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “When you’re out there counting stars, you ever wonder what they sound like?"

She leaned in as well and grinned widely. 

“I was thinking it would kinda be something like you know, boom?”

He chuckled and shook his head, refusing to give up on his point. “This Clarke,” he said holding up the Walkman. “This is the sound of your stars.”

“So, I should keep counting then?” She asked, still nervous despite his gushing admiration

“Well if you don’t, you’ll have me to answer to.”

“Promise?”

“I promise princess,” he replied, soft and steady as they continued to drive past the field where they had first begun her exploration of rock.

And then, everything fell apart. She got the call at 11:58 pm while she was curled up against Lexa, content with her reaction to the music. 

It took three rings to wake her up but the first cry of her sobbing mother was what fully alerted her to the call.

“Clarke, honey?”

“Mom?” She asked but was only answered with irregular and loud cries. “Mom!?”

“It’s your father. Please, come home.”

“Mom!? What happened?”

“They said it was the ice. The wheels slipped.” She gasped, struggling to catch the shaky breaths “He’s gone.” Her voice was flat.

Clarke couldn’t find the words. Her head spun and she vaguely recalled agreeing to go home but it wasn’t until Lexa woke and laid her hands upon the now panicking blonde’s shoulders. 

“Clarke? Clarke? What’s happened? Are you okay?”

She shook her head and opened and closed her mouth until she could master what she thought sounded partially coherent. 

“It’s my dad.” she sobbed

Lexa recoiled immediately, retracting her hands and jumping out of the bed, standing up as if she could distance herself from the cries of her girlfriend.

“He’s dead. She said he’s dead.” she managed between gasps.

“I’ll take you home.”

Clarke jumped out of the car as soon as they pulled up to her driveway, her father’s car missing from the group of vehicles in the garage. She glanced back as she opened the doorway but Lexa’s car had vanished and the sound of an acceleration sounded from the street.

Her mom was sat in the living room, her head in her hands and her shoulders shaking. Clarke’s face was bloated and red but her tears had run out, she felt as though she couldn’t function properly, as though her body could shut down at any moment and she would forget to breathe.

“He said he was careful. He wouldn’t drive this late.” She stated with no questions, no doubts. “Mom”

“We fought,” Abby mumbled through her trembling fingers. “I let him go,”

“You what?”

“I let him go. He was so angry, I didn’t know what to do.”

“I don’t…I can’t” she squeezed her eyes shut and put her hands to her temples, as if the thoughts couldn’t even process anymore.

“He found out about... Clarke I’m so sorry.” Abby stood, beginning to reach out towards her daughter.

Her body sprung into action, taking as many steps back as she could.

“Keep your hands off me and tell me the fucking truth.” she said, blunt and deceptively calm.

“He went to confront Thelonious. He saw… I think he knew…”

A sob escaped Clarke’s lips and her hand shot up to her mouth to catch it, stopping the breath from leaving and physically halting all passage into her airways, until she turned red and choked. The door was only a few steps away and she stumbled towards it in hope of fresh air. A breath that hadn’t been tainted by the vileness embedded beneath the plaster. Her mother caught her hand, a desperate attempt to seek comfort.

“What happens next?” Clarke whispered, having nothing else to say. It took Abby by surprise, and she somewhat wilted backwards.

“There’s paperwork and contracts to sort out before the funeral but honey you don’t need-“

“No! No!” Clarke shouted, finally managing to get outside after throwing the door open. She turned back, still raging “He can’t be gone! Do not tell me you let my father die!”

Her mother remained silent and eventually, the final shred of hope left Clarke’s eyes, seeping and streaming down her face.

“Don’t try to stop me. Don’t touch me. Don’t try to talk. Just…” she begged walking backwards, lurching towards her rusted pickup, “Don’t.”

She drove and drove until the tears ceased and the sobs stopped. Once, the thoughts had ended their inward spiral, she had no idea where she had pulled over and the chill of winter began to fill the truck. Reaching for her phone, she clicked onto number two of her speed dial, refusing to admit that number one would no longer answer.

“Please, please, please” she muttered over and over until she reached Lexa’s voicemail.

It took four more tries until she heard her voice-

“Lexa?” she struggled through a hoarse and weakened voice.

“Clarke? I’m sorry, I can’t.“ she was cut off by a nearby yet muffled voice.

Clarke could hear her girlfriend scold the speaker, silencing them immediately. 

But the damage was done. 

She recognized the tone clearly, and with the proxemics of the person on the other side of the phone, it was obvious what was happening. Clarke felt her heart, in that moment, physically disengrate.

She looked out of the window after hanging up and recognized the field that now surrounded her. You wouldn’t have thought that she had visited the very same place with her father that day, for it now looked completely different. Gone were the prospering flowers that danced along the hedgerows and instead, moonbeams chose to illuminate the grass from within, slicing the ground beneath her in two.

“Raven?” Clarke begged, her head crashing against the window, her teeth beginning to chatter

“Shit are you okay?” against all logic, she shook her head, knowing the girl on the other end of the line wouldn’t see. “What happened?” her friend asked, softer this time.

“It’s my dad…” The tears had returned.

“Fuck.”

“Basically yeah,” Clarke made a strangled sound that she hoped Raven would understand to be a meek attempt to laugh

“Where are you?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered, because this wasn’t her field. Not anymore.

“OK, do you know how to get back home?”

“I can’t Raven. I can’t go back there.”

“No, sure. No, yeah, I know,” she stumbled and it gave Clarke the slightest, barely there grin.

“Can I come to yours?”

“Of course.”

The apartment door was wide open when she arrived. Raven sat worriedly against the wall of the corridor. She jumped up as soon as she saw the broken girl before her and wrapped her up in her arms, guiding her to the bedroom. No words were said, Raven just held Clarke as she cried and cried through the whole night, smoothing her hair and caressing her cheeks as the distraught emotions escaped through in bursts and explosions. Neither gained much sleep, in fact, on the first night they didn’t get any. 

It took a fortnight, one in which Clarke had refused to leave the apartment, without complaint from Raven, for her to gain a full night’s sleep and even then it was plagued with nightmares and terrors of tires screeching and engines struggling to decelerate.

When she had woken up screaming and gasping, Raven was there to comfort her and they stayed up talking, whispering beneath the covers for the rest of the night.

“She was cheating. He’s dead because she was cheating.” She whispered once the conversation lulled.

“Clarke that doesn’t mean your mom killed him.”

“No, but she was the reason.”

After a moment of consideration, the brunette replied, “Stay here, for as long as you like, hell don’t leave. We’ll make it work.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do. He’s gone. He’s actually gone and he’s not coming back. I’m not going to be able to live without seeing his face and knowing that he’s not there. There’s nowhere to go and I can’t face her, especially not without him.”

“Well you have me and I’m not going anywhere. Fuck your mom. Your dad wouldn’t want you to spiral and you know it. He wanted you out there, living your life as best as fucking possible.”

There was silence and then 

“But... how? Do you want to hear the last thing he said to me? I showed him some of my music and he said ‘this Clarke, this is the sound of your stars’. He said that if I ever stopped counting them I would have him to answer to. And now, I can’t do it Raven. I can’t even look at them.”

There was nothing left to say that night. 

 

“Lexa went to the funeral, apparently.” Raven called from the kitchen one evening

“She had no right.”

“Maybe you should speak to her?”

“She said she loved me Raven. How is what she did love? I found out the reason my father had died was my mother’s infidelity and the same night, I hear her with someone else. She didn’t even have the decency to wait until she’d finished the call. And I needed her. So no, I shouldn’t and I can’t. You’re the only person I have left.”

“I’m not leaving.” Raven repeated

“I trust you.”

~⭐️~

 Clarke learned how to completely shut off all emotions two weeks later, having made minimal progress recovering from the loss of her father. Raven had been with her throughout and Clarke had become eternally grateful for the comfort she had provided. Of course, there was no light yet, she was continuing along a pitch black tunnel looking for some sort of beacon. But, there was someone carrying her the whole way, making the recovery much faster. And then, Lexa came back, and she crashed all over again.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” Clarke heard from Raven’s bathroom after she had been convinced to leave the apartment, the offer of free waffles had become too tempting. 

She creeped, on tiptoes, to the door, peering her head out to see who was there.

“I came to give her this,” Clarke’s heart leapt into her throat and all of a sudden she couldn’t feel her knees anymore.

“Oh, so you couldn’t pop it round when you decided to break her heart?”

“Raven you don’t understand,” Lexa replied, forcing a diplomatic tone.

“No, Lexa, you don’t understand. You bailed. You left.” Raven began, pointing a finger directly into the other girl’s shoulder. “You ran away on the night she needed you most. You do not get to change your mind when she finally begins to pull herself together. You had your chance when she called you, begging you to just pick up the fucking phone and-“

Clarke couldn’t hear anymore, wouldn’t say what she had to say if she waited any longer

“Raven,”

Lexa lifted her head as soon as Clarke entered the room, a shy smile on her face just visible over Raven’s shoulder

“I just wanted to give you this” She lifted the Walkman, looking bruised and scratched from the years of use and suddenly, Clarke wanted nothing more than to never see it again

“I don’t want it.”

“Clarke...”

“No. Don’t pretend you know what’s best for me now. Don’t pretend you know how to help me heal. You don’t get to do that, not anymore. Raven was wrong earlier.” she began, making Raven do a full 180 to look at her with a confused expression, “You didn’t break my heart that night, it was already shattered into a thousand pieces. You were just the one who drove every single shard across my body and crushed them into dust. I don’t want the fucking Walkman. I just want you gone.”

Raven had backed away at the same rate Clarke had stepped forward so they now stood in line, forming some sort of wall against Lexa

“Clarke, I still-“

“No! No don’t you dare, don’t you fucking dare. What you did isn’t love. What you did was selfish and ignorant and something I will never ever forget. So leave Lexa, please.” It was barely a whisper, but it obviously registered from the raw look that coated Lexa’s face

“I can’t.”

“Lexa it’s time to go.” Raven stepped in, forming a barrier between the two

“Not before she takes this.”

Clarke stormed forward, until she was centimeters away from Lexa’s face, breathless and seething.

 “Don’t you get it?! I don’t want it if he’s not here! Leave!”

Its fair to say, waffles fell very low on the list of priorities after that.

~⭐️~

“What are you doing?” Clarke asked as she walked into the kitchen a few days later to see Raven hunched over the now broken stereo that the blonde had thrown against a wall as soon as Lexa had left.

“What does it look like?” She replied, lifting the screwdriver above her head

Clarke sighed and moved around the island to take the nearest seat and rest her head upon her friend’s shoulder. She watched her work for a few minutes, until it all came rushing back to her.

“The last time it was broken was Finn, my dad fixed it. I don’t think you’ll fix it this time.”

“Well, we can try.”

She lifted her head to view the brunette curiously.

“Why are you doing all of this?”

“Because you’ve done it for me.” Which was technically true, her mom had died of alcohol poisoning a couple years before but Clarke had guessed it was different then. Raven and her mom had never been close. “I guess you aren’t the only one relying on one person for the foreseeable future.”

“I don’t think we can do this again. My heart feels like it’s just stopped beating.”

“Let’s leave then. There’s nothing left for either of us so let’s just go, y’know, start a new chapter.”

“New people, new streets, new skies.”

Raven gave her a knowing smile, “Maybe then you can start counting again?”

Clarke would deny it in the future if anyone asked but Raven would always say that was the first genuine smile she had shown since the accident. “Maybe.”

~⭐️~

Six months later, they were fully settled into an apartment, 1700 miles from the last. New York was a big change from Texas, the most noticeable difference being the accents which Clarke and Raven couldn’t help but imitate late at night after a few too many. The place they had found was the first on craigslist, and although it was in a particularly rough area, the apartment itself was perfect. With an open floor plan so that, in the depths of the night when Clarke would still become encompassed in nightmare, Raven could jump into action and join the blonde, comforting her for hours.

Clarke couldn’t go back to med school, not anymore. She found a job at a local bar which payed surprisingly well and had workers who would never ask too many questions. Ever since she saw Lexa last, she hadn’t cried and had even taken to playing again, favoring her electric guitar much more. Raven became like a sister, like they were joint at the hip and Clarke knew she didn’t want to open up to anyone else, not ever, not after the shit storm that happened in Texas. Raven began to go to Columbia, studying aeronautics, which was a pretty big commute but they made it work. They had started again, completely forgetting about life a year ago.

“Where’ve you been?” Clarke wondered, hanging up from her call to the Thai place and removing the headphones after hearing the door close

“I’ve met some people” she grinned

“Yeah?” Clarke mirrored

“You’d love them Clarke, and they’ve set up a band a couple months back. It’s legit and they need some members.”

“Go for it Rey! You’ll be able to actually make music again.”

Raven was silent for a few moments, humming until she plucked up the courage to mention, “They also need a vocalist.”

Clarke stood up. Too soon, it was too soon, she couldn’t play with people yet.

“Not happening.”

“C’mon Clarke, it’s been nine months. We haven’t played for ages and you know we could both use this.” She tried, following Clarke into the kitchen where the blonde proceeded to uncap the beers they both desperately needed after their busy days. “These guys are the real deal and surely you’d rather do this with your life than sell drinks to alcoholics?”

“It’s not that simple and you know it.” She said spinning around “It hurts too much.”

“You know what he’d be saying if he were here”

“Don’t do that.”

“Clarke we’ve been here seven months and you’ve met nobody.”

“That’s not true! There’s Lincoln.”

“Your boss doesn’t count Clarke.” Raven shook her head, sympathetically

“Niylah?”

“Hmmm” She thought in mock consideration, her hand placed lightly onto her chin “A rebound fuck buddy, like that’s a stable relationship.”

“I don’t want stability Raven. I want to be alone.”

“You can’t do this forever.” Raven began to raise her voice “You can’t keep punishing yourself. Don’t think I haven’t heard you in your room Clarke, you’re still writing, I know you are.”

“Only to keep the nightmares away.” the blonde mumbled back, her eyes closed so she could compose herself

“You need to move on.”

Clarke’s head shot up, her eyes flashing into some sort of panic. “From him? From her?”

“From Texas,” Raven groaned, falling back onto the couch with her friend. Three distinct knocks sounded throughout the apartment and Clarke left to answer the door to the delivery man, pausing only to decline his attempts to flirt with her. When she came back into the room, slightly flustered with a large brown paper bag, the tension had faded and Raven’s lips had formed a toothy grin. “Secret admirer?”

“Not so secret” Clarke returned, rolling her eyes

“It’s the hair.” Raven grinned, reaching for the electric pink streaks within the long waves. “You’ve definitely got the punk rocker look.” she winked

Clarke glared at her before becoming distracted, immersed in the Thai food.

It was only when they had begun to drift off to sleep, heads leant against each other as reruns of The Office played in the background that Raven whispered faintly

“Just come to one rehearsal, I promise it will be worth it”

“Just one?” Clarke whispered back

“Just one.”

~⭐️~

 She meets Octavia Blake the next Monday, at around seven when the sun begins to set. Clarke, although feeling out of place amongst the group who seem to have known each other for years, knows that she’s comfortable. Almost as if she could learn to call the drafty garage home. Octavia is a mixture of excitement, curiosity and vibrant youth. Clarke quickly learns she plays drums which she could have predicted from the first ten seconds of conversation.

“So you’re the Clarke Griffin?” she giggles

“The?” Clarke questions, grinning along with the contagious laugh

“Raven said you’re a, and I quote, ‘musical genius’” Octavia whispers, slightly dubious.

“Raven has an insane talent for overestimating my capabilities.” Clarke whispers back, smiling over at her best friend who had already immersed herself in the group.

“I don’t know about that, she seems like a smart girl.” the brunette continues to laugh “I’m Octavia, but the others call me O.”

“Hi,” Clarke reaches out her hand. Octavia misreads the signal however and leans in to wrap her arms around Clarke in a firm hug. The blonde stiffens, unnoticed by O, and looks over to Raven with eyes full of panic. Raven only shakes her head and shrugs her shoulders before being pulled back in to conversation with a lively guy wearing some sort of lab goggles on the top of his head.

“You want to meet the rest of us?” Octavia asks as Clarke watches the huddle with curiosity

“Um, sure” And suddenly she’s pushed into the middle, instantly met with the boy who’s taken on the persona of a mad scientist with untamed hair, made even more wilder by the plastic goggles. His face seems stuck in a cheeky grin and the look in his eyes is almost manic. Clarke’s pretty sure he’s high.

“This is Jasper, he plays guitar...normally” Clarke glances down and notices the bandage wrapped firmly around his right hand, smothered in colorful signatures and hidden obscene doodles.

“Been in the wars?” She asked, unable to hide the shy smile.

“You could say that...

Her attention is shifted to a shy looking man, around the same age with small features and a full head of dark hair.

“I’m Monty, his partner in crime although when we’re in public I try my best not affiliate myself with him.”

“Sounds smart,” Clarke laughed

“I’m Harper, I’m on keyboard” a blonde girl with a braid on the left side of her head smiled, placing her hand on Clarke’s arm in reassurance. Clarke discreetly took a step back, suddenly uncomfortable with the proxemics of the group. She had her guitar case in one hand and brought it up to her chest to form some sort of shield.

Raven, having been her rock for so long, immediately noticed and suggested something about finding another amp for Clarke’s guitar. Monty and Harper sprung to their feet and Clarke looked to them in appreciation.

“So this is my brother’s house but he’s been gone for a while...” Octavia pulled her to the side.

“Where?” Clarke asks, genuinely wanting to know more about her.

“He’s in another band, just on a bit of a larger scale. Not really my thing though, he plays heavy metal.”

“What’s your thing?”

“We’re a bit all over the place,” she replies, nodding her head over to the group who were now fiddling with their instruments. “What about you Clarke Griffin?” she asks mischievously, “What’s your sound?”

“I think that’s what I’m trying to figure out. What’s the plan for you guys then?”

“We aren’t by any means there yet, but I like to think that no matter what happens, this will always be us y’know? The band will always be a part of us and if there’s a way we can make money along with music then great, but that’s not what we’re in it for.”

Clarke can’t help but grin at that, looking into the brunette’s eyes with something she hadn’t felt in a very long time- hope.

“Clarke?” she hears Jasper yell over from where he’s currently sat, she shoots her head up from Octavia and notices the others already sat in place. He stands up and makes his way over to her, “Do you want me to plug your guitar in?”

“No!” She almost yells, the alarm rushing through her in one big sweeping wave. She coughs and splutters slightly before regaining her composure and calmly adding “I’m good thanks.”

She gets up to go over to where Raven is currently setting up and takes a few breaths.

Pull yourself together. They’re harmless. Just pretend you’re alone and play like you mean it. She repeats on a constant mantra, beginning to strum carelessly at the strings of her guitar, testing the volume and ensuring it’s in tune.

“So how do you want to do this?” Raven asks

“You sing, right Clarke?” Harper asks

“Sure.”

“Then lead the way.”

“You guys know any of the Beatles?” She asks, undertaking a focus she retained only for when she plays, looking straight forward at the mic in front of her. She only hears a snort in reply coming from right behind her. Unable to recognize who the sound came from, she begins to play, striking her guitar. The rest follow, erupting the small room into bursts of vibrant sound. The hum of her guitar vibrates throughout her whole body and although the prospect of setting her voice all bare in front of what are effectively strangers is terrifying, she can’t help but go for it as she reaches for the mic and begins. And then the words just flow, bouncing in time to the strum of her guitar in her deep and slightly raspy voice. She didn’t know she could sing like this, having never played in these conditions before.

And as the rhythm reaches its first chorus, she wants to challenge her limits, belting out the famous lyrics of ‘Come Together’. She’s alive. The rush of music both centering her to one spot, maintaining a calm focus while throwing her around the room simultaneously in an intense explosion. She notices Octavia’s insane natural tempo and knows that what she’s got is pure and unadulterated talent. Raven, by her side as always, seems immersed in the strings of the ruby red bass she has played since their first few meetings. She doesn’t have to wonder anymore. Clarke knows that she can call this place home.

With her eyes closed they finish the song, all players slightly breathless. She doesn’t want to open them because she knows that as soon as the artificial lights flood her perception once more, the daze of the music will be gone. She’s reached some sort of fragile ecstasy that can’t be broken just yet.

What she doesn’t notice is the face of Jasper who, still perched on the bench is leaning in towards her, watching Clarke as if she is some sort of enigma. His mouth dropped open, flashing crooked teeth in his state of awe. Monty, now wearing large headphones plugged into a complicated set up of laptops, is another who can’t contain his shock. Of course, he handles it with more composure but his eyes widen and he repeatedly avoids even looking at Clarke for fear of intimidation. She had filled the room with her presence in a way no one could with mere words. Raven looks at her like a proud mother, the huge smile stitched onto her face and not showing any signs of moving.

“You’ve got pipes Clarke.” Harper breathes, shaking her head.

“That’s nothing. you should hear what she writes.” Raven beams

“Raven!” Clarke whispers.

“Seriously Clarke.” Octavia says, standing up from her kit with a gleam in her eyes, watching Clarke suspiciously as though she either doesn’t quite exist or she might just turn to dust at the smallest touch. “You’re something else.”

Clarke doesn’t shy away, that’s not her anymore. She stands firm and regains a cold composure but the warmth in her eyes matches the others and she knows she wants to be here. Right here, standing right in front of the mic with her best friend by her side and these magical strangers around her.

“So, are you in?” Jasper asks, pleading behind the subtle words.

“I’m in.” She laughs

“Welcome to the Delinquents, Griffin.” Octavia Blake says warmly.

“Wanna go again?”

 

Later, when they’re having a break from playing covers and discovering what songs sound best, Clarke overhears the group speaking.

She had excused herself to a corner, feeling the familiar want of her Walkman after lasting a few hours without it. But, just as she’s about to press play, she hears the hushed whispers.

“Raven she’s perfect! Why didn’t you introduce us before?”

“She hasn’t played for a while”

“I think I’m in love.” Clarke thinks that’s Jasper.

“So am I,” Harper agrees jokingly “it’s the hair.”

“And the voice.”

“And that gorgeous guitar, I swear it’s the same color as her eyes.”

“Okay shove it you two.” Octavia steps in “You don’t want to scare her off”

“Please!” Raven intercepts “Nothing really scares Clarke anymore.”

“She’s pretty intimidating, I’m not gonna lie.” Monty whispers.

“Guys do you think she’ll become Clarke Jordan or should I be Jasper Griffin?”

Clarke hears a thump and then a loud grunt. 

“Good luck with that Jasper, she’s not really a relationship type of girl. Not anymore.”

“Well, she can join the club of fucked up individuals.” Octavia smiles

“What’s with the Walkman?” Harper asks

“It’s her shelter. Has been since we were kids.”

“It’s fucking cool.”

“I like the tat. What’s it for?” Clarke stifles a smile at that. She had gotten it within the last month and was instantly in love with it. She hadn’t been able to start counting again, not since her father had died but she missed the stars. She missed looking up every night to view the wonders embedded in the constellations. So she got a tattoo, on her left hand, the one she uses to play, of a tiny constellation on her inner wrist. She likes to think, this way, she can have the stars with her whenever she needs them.

“The stars?” Octavia questions 

“It’s a... um, long story.” Raven stutters 

“Damn she looks like something out of a 60s indie movie.”

“You said she writes?”

“Dude you’ve heard nothing yet.”

 For the first time in months, Clarke begins to contemplate the prospect that maybe, just maybe, she might be able to feel again.

 


	2. Everything Is Waiting for You Pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally this was supposed to be apart of chapter 1 but the site was acting up so here it is Bellamy's POV!

"E! here with breaking news. Bellamy Blake lead guitarist and notorious playboy has left the band Ice Nation." Fox said as her co-anchor Max pretended to look surprised. 

"But wait isn't his long-time girlfriend Echo Kom one of the founding members and current bassist?" Max questioned. 

"Well, it seems like Echo might have gotten tired of his playboy ways." Fox smiled brightly as she leaned forward onto the table and with a sly smile reported. "Rumor has it she's the reason he left; irreconcilable differences." 

Bellamy sighs as he swipes his phone screen up to exit the video. Leaving Ice Nation was the best decision for him but having people speculate about why, wasn't something he expected. Now, that he thinks about it that was pretty naive. His phone dings with a twitter notification. 

R0ckNati0n @shredlikebell  
@hellsbells this is fucked up shit man. I can see why you left. If my girl fucked around with my friend/bandmate I'd bounce too. Hope you continue to make music. Rocho On The Rise!   
Bellamy clicks on the link and is assaulted with pictures of Roan and Echo kissing at a Grammy after party. Bellamy's heart twists as he scrolls through pictures. He knew he couldn't possibly call this betrayal because things were over between him and Echo but fuck did it still cut deep.   
When they'd ended their relationship he thought it was because of his own problem, not because of her hooking up with Roan. Bellamy's eyes glisten with the tears he is desperately trying to keep from falling. 

Bellamy, by all means, hadn't been the best boyfriend to Echo. He'd done a lot of things he wasn't proud of but one incident last year was the last time he'd felt anywhere as close to how he felt now. That night had turned hazy in his mind now, clouded by God knows what he’d taken. After they’d played a set that was said to be kickass- he can’t quite remember now- he’d felt invincible.   
That night he'd taken that to a whole other level and Echo found him with his head buried between a groupie's legs. The look of utter heartbreak on Echo's face had broken him and now she'd broken him in return. 

"That'll be seventy bucks." The gruff voice of the taxi driver pulls Bellamy out of his melodramatic thoughts.  
He hands the driver his fair and exits the car with a backpack over his shoulder, suitcase in one hand, and guitar in the other.  
Bellamy feels his chest seize with apprehension as he looks at the stone walls of his best friend’s New York City apartment complex. Was he making the right choice by coming back? He'd left everyone six years before without hesitation and was now returning with doubt plaguing his every step. 

Bellamy turns his back to the place that had once been his second home and puts his luggage on the floor. He looks up and expects to see a dark sky filled with constellations but instead, the city lights illuminate the sky leaving the stars to obscurity. 

Bellamy pulls out a cigarette from his leather jacket and places it between his lips. He's told himself he'd quit but every time he's tried, shit hits the fan, and he says fuck it and lights the death stick. This feels like one of those moments.   
Inhaling the stench of nicotine, he lets the smoke encapsulate his lungs and doubts. Hoping as he exhales the smoke his reluctance escapes with it. 

"I know you credit those sticks to the throaty wail you call a voice but did anyone ever tell you they'll kill you?"   
Bellamy instantly turns around when he hears the voice of his best friend Nathan Miller, better known as Miller. He's standing on the steps before the door, looking almost the same as he did six years ago. He still has the same bald head and smile. The one thing that is different is the scruffy beard that makes him look like a matured older version of the man he'd left behind. 

"I can see that shinny ass head of yours still thinks it's funny." Bellamy quips back as he crushes the cigarette against his boot.   
Miller walks down the steps and is in front of Bellamy with a smirk on his face. 

"You look better on T.V." His tone is light, causing Bellamy to playfully jab back.

"Dick."

They both laugh and embrace. 

It's good to see you." Miller says as he tightens his hold on Bellamy.

The stiffness that he felt and the weight of his return home eases away and Bellamy relaxes in hugging his best friend tightly. 

"It's good to be back home." 

Miller pulls back and slaps Bellamy on the shoulder as he says.

"I'm pretty happy that you've finally come back and I'm enjoying this overly bro reunion, but I'm freezing. Let's get the fuck inside."   
Bellamy laughs under his breath as he grabs his luggage and follows Miller into the complex. It’s still the same deep burgundy brick building that housed the Blakes and Miller after Bellamy became Octavia's guardian. 

When he couldn't afford to keep paying the house his mother rented after she perished, the first thing Bellamy did when he'd received his first lump sum from being a part of Ice Nation was to buy their former home. Now, to his disdain Octavia lives there alone. He never wanted her to be alone. 

Walking through the door is like nothing has changed in the past six years. The elevator still has the caution tape strapped over the doors and an out of order sign dangles over the tape.

"The elevator is still trashed?"

"Shit. It's been like that since I moved in. After like year two of the ten I've been living here I figured it would never be fixed." Miller chuckles as he flicks the light switch.

The lobby still has the funky faded asparagus colored sofa that has probably been there since the 1970s and an outdated vending machine that looks surprisingly like it’s fully stocked and working. Bellamy looks to the stairs and lets out a sigh. 

"I still live on the fifth floor." Miller looks to Bellamy with a bemused expression and with a smirk says. "Oh, and Rockstar, there's no bell boy to carry those bags for you. Welcome back to the life of a commoner Sky King." Miller laughs as ascends up the stairs. 

Bellamy chuckles and feels the hope fill his chest. He definitely is looking forward to the life of the mundane.

 

~B~ 

 

"Just hear him out," Miller says as he stands before the door to his apartment. He is desperately trying to block Octavia's way out. 

"He left for six years became famous and forgot about us. There is nothing to talk about." Octavia's words feel like a fist to the stomach and Bellamy clenches his jaw tightly as he blinks tears away.

"O. Please, just listen to me." His words come out soft and broken. 

Bellamy watches as Octavia's tense body deflates and she slowly turns around to face him. Her eyes are filled with unshed tears as she looks back at him. Her expression breaks him and Bellamy's tears fall silently down his cheeks. 

She has to know how much it hurts to see her like this. 

She'd been the only person he'd ever truly loved and she was the reason he'd left to Los Angeles and joined Echo and Roan's band Ice Nation. He hadn't wanted to leave Octavia behind but he didn't have any other choice. 

Their mother Aurora, the person who introduced her kids to music and showed them how a melody could transform your life, had perished. He'd been fifteen and still dreaming to make it as a musician when he'd had to become the sole provider for his nine-year-old sister. They were barely scraping by between him working whatever job he could find and playing gigs with bands who needed a fill-in guitarist. They were getting too close for comfort to starving. Through Bellamy's utter dismay he had pulled The Blake Duo act out. They'd hit the subway and parks and he'd sing while he played his guitar and Octavia would play the drums their rusted pots and pans. 

This wasn't something they'd conjured out of the blue. Aurora was the mastermind behind this. Back when she was alive they'd been The Blake Trio with Aurora singing and playing a small keyboard that had definitely seen better days. Some days they'd get an abundance of tips and others they are lucky to get twenty bucks. Bellamy hadn’t been fond of going back to this but they needed to eat.  
That was how he'd met Echo. He had just turned twenty-two and she was waiting for the subway and stumbled upon the Blakes playing Lynyrd Skynyrd's Free Bird. She’d ditched her plans and stayed to watch him and O perform until they'd finished all ten songs. Echo sauntered up to him handing him a flyer, a kiss on the cheek, and seductively whispered in his ear "You have a delicious voice and amazingly swift fingers."

She'd left him stunned as he watched her sway her hips, leaving him behind. He finally looked to see the flyer was Ice Nation auditioning for a lead guitarist. Bellamy showed up, got the job, and left to L.A. It was the only option he had to give Octavia a better life. One where she didn't starve, wear second-hand clothes and didn't have to worry about adult stuff. She could be a kid and focus on school.   
He'd entrusted his best friend Miller to take care of her. When he'd left she was about to start her sophomore year of high school and was angry as hell. 

"I could and would never forget about you. I thought about you every day and you know I tried to get in touch, countless times. You are angry and I get that but I wish you'd forgive me. I just wanted you to have the chance at life I never had. One filled where opportunities knocked on the door, not hard choices that would come barrelling in. All I ever wanted was a better life for you because I love you." 

Bellamy places a hand on his sister's shoulder.

"A life without you wasn't a better life." Octavia's voice shakes as tears slide down her porcelain skin.

Bellamy wipes a tear from his sister's cheek and gently pulls her close, giving her the option to pull away; but she doesn't. Instead, Octavia wraps her arms around her brother’s waist and cries silently into his chest. 

"A life without you wasn't a life at all. I've missed you so much." Bellamy says as he kisses the top of his sisters head.

 

~B~

 

Bellamy sits with his back against the bar and watches as Miller tries desperately to not look desperate as he flirts with some random guy. He'd been gone for six years and lots of things had changed, immensely, but others hadn't so much. One of the things that hadn't changed in the slightest was Miller's game or lack there-of. Bellamy smiles to himself and can't help but feel his heart twinge for his best friend. Miller was a great guy who deserved the world and Bellamy knew one day Miller would find the right guy who'd give him just that, but until then Bellamy was gonna enjoy watching his friend look like a fool. 

"Heard you were back." A familiar voice rings beside him. 

Bellamy turns to see the one and only Harper. Six years ago she'd looked at him like he'd strung up the stars and now she is staring him down like he's just kicked her dog. The look she is giving is murderous. She's barely recognizable from the scrawny, frizzy-haired tough girl he’d known when she was in middle school. 

Bellamy feels pride fill his chest. Looking at her now Bellamy doesn't know how to respond to this new Harper. The old Harper would have smiled and punched him in the gut after about two seconds but years of anger toward him had passed and they were different people now. So, Bellamy takes a huge swig of his beer and replies.

"Yup."

Harper arches her eyebrow further up her forehead and lets out an annoyed sigh. 

"Roan finally kicked you out." 

She didn't ask because Harper predicted this would happen. She'd told him when he'd first decided to join Ice Nation that Roan would kick him out the minute Echo finally saw that he cared for her more than some childhood friend. Bellamy, of course, thought she was just spewing angry words. Now, years later he didn't know how Harper had seen it and he hadn't. How he still hadn't until the tabloids spoke of their new relationship. 

"Yup." He responds again as he brings the bottle to his lips.

"Well, I told you." Harper's tone shifts from angry to condescending.

Bellamy knew his old friend Harper and when she hit the condescending snarky tone she was well on her way to forgiving you, but this older scarier version of the girl he'd once called his friend...his family; well, he wasn't sure. So, he responds with another, 

"Yup."

"You can't even look at me." Harper's words are angry again. 

Bellamy turns to see the woman that holds echoes of the girl he used to know.

"I thought being part of a metal band like Ice Nation would have toughened you up, but I was wrong. You're still the same coward that left six years ago."

She shoves into the crowd and ignores Bellamy as he calls out her name. He desperately wants to make things right between them. After all, she is family.

Harper is only a year older than his sister but had been far more mature than Octavia. Harper had lived just as hard of a life as them and held an air of maturity that rivaled Bellamy's. When he'd first met her the two girls had been in middle school and even though Octavia was a bit more childish than the spunky teen, they'd become fast friends. Bellamy saw a lot of himself in Harper and had taken her under his wing, and at first, it was hard. 

Harper didn't trust people but after months of just being the nurturing big brother that he was, he'd caved. From the moment she let them be her family he watched over her like he did Octavia. 

"You need to have a real talk with her," Octavia says as she pulls the bottle from Bellamy's hand. 

Bellamy watches as his little sister legally drink his beer. It is moments like this that really hit him how much he'd really missed. Last time things had been good between them, she was getting ready for her sophomore year of high school. Now as he looks to the grown woman before him, who'd once been the girl he'd raised and known better than anyone, it’s just a bigger reminder that not just time had passed but the people changed along with it. 

"I don't know her anymore. I don't know what to say."

"It's still the same Harper, she's just hurt like I am."

"What?" Bellamy is confused by her statement. 

Hadn't she forgiven him?

"The hurt from your six-year absence doesn't go away over-night. I love you big brother but you gotta give us time." She looks at him sympathetically but the pity makes his stomach turn.

"Miller didn't need time."

"Yeah, because you weren't his only family. It's easy to not be upset with someone for leaving when you still got family." Octavia says with a pointed look.

"O, you know I'm sorry for hurting you but I'm not sorry for leaving. You're getting a college education. Something I couldn't have given you without leaving." 

Bellamy would never regret leaving because without his time with Ice Nation, Octavia wouldn't have thrived and ended up in NYU. 

"I know," Octavia replies.

Bellamy spends the rest of the night bonding with his sister and feels himself for the first time in six years. She tells him about her band, her friends, and everything little thing she can think of. 

 

~B~

 

Bellamy looks down at his sleek black guitar. How could something that once caused him so much joy, now bring up so much shame. With a hard flick of his wrist, he sends the case slamming shut. 

"Fuck." He whispers to himself.

He’d always hated feeling this weak. No change there then. 

"Bell, I need your help," Octavia calls out from somewhere behind his bedroom door. 

Like a moth to a flame, Bellamy drifts to her voice. There in the middle of Miller's living room stands his baby sister. He still can’t seem to get over how much she'd grown. 

"What can I do?" He responds instantly.

"Remember I was telling you about my band and how we have a gig tomorrow?" She pulls her backpack nervously on her shoulders as she continues. "Jasper, our lead guitarist has a broken hand and we thought he’d be able to play but he got his other hand slammed by a car door."

"Damn. That's just fucking horrible luck." Bellamy responds genuinely feeling bad for the kid.

"We have a gig tomorrow night and we can't cancel. You know how it is the minute you cancel one gig bar owners talk and then people stop booking you. You're the only person I know who is good enough to play without having to rehearse with the band. Please say you can fill in." Octavia's request sinks Bellamy's hopes of helping her. 

Music. The thought of it fills him with dread. It’s too hard for him to face, but how can he say no to his sister. He doesn't want to disappoint her. He had done that for the last six years. The pressure causes his hands to shake and his chest to tighten.

Bellamy instantly grabs his pack of cigarettes from the coffee table and heads for the window. He sits on the stairs of the fire escape. As he brings the lighter up, he can see his hands are shaking heavily.   
Bellamy inhales and can feel the tightening in his chest start to relieve itself as his lungs fill with toxic fumes. Bellamy looks up to see his sister eyeing him curiously. 

"I don't know, O." He finally says as the smoke wafts out of his mouth.

"I know we are no Ice Nation, but I could really use your help." Octavia pleads.

The tightening returns causing Bellamy to take another drag. 

"It's not that O. I swear. It's just I haven't played in a while. I don't want to fuck up your gig." Bellamy semi-lies. 

It’s true; he hasn't played in a while and of course, he doesn't want to mess up her gig. But the honest to God truth is he’s scared what music will do to him. Who knows if he'd spiral back into the darkness and give into it. 

"You know what forget it. All you had to do was say no instead of giving me some half ass excuse. God! I thought you were done letting me down." 

The look of hurt in her eyes mixed with the anger in her voice causes Bellamy to respond without truly thinking.

"I'll do it."

Octavia's face instantly transforms from seething to overjoyed. 

"Thank you, big brother." She kisses his cheek and begins to ramble.

"I know we aren't metal but music is music and I know you. Music is everything to you and you’ve always been better at rock." She winks, leaning in and hugs Bellamy.

Bellamy relaxes into his sister and squeezes her tightly. 

"Here's the sheet music." Octavia pulls out a binder from her backpack and hands it Bellamy with a huge smile. "Meet at The Ring tomorrow night at 9:30."

As Bellamy nods his head all he can think is What the hell am I doing?.

 

~B~

 

The smell of cigarettes and alcohol is sharp and inviting. Bellamy can feel his head filling with hazy memories that he'd rather keep out. 

Making his way toward the bar with a guitar case in hand isn't an easy job. The Ring is filled with patrons tonight and Bellamy knows if he is going to get through this he is going to need a drink. 

"Jack and Coke but, um, make it a splash of coke. Thanks." Bellamy instructs the bartender.

The bartender eyes Bellamy up and down for few seconds and then like a lightbulb goes off in his head, he smiles brightly.

"You're Bellamy Blake." 

"Sure am," Bellamy replies with a grimace.

"I'm a huge fan! You're the reason I decided to pick up a guitar, man. Can I take a picture with you?" He asks with excitement laced in his words and on his face.

"Of course, man," Bellamy says as he leans over the bar, devil horns out and he smirks smugly for the camera.

The bartender snaps a picture and thanks Bellamy profusely. 

The kind words from a fan always give Bellamy a fullness in his chest. It leaves him feeling like he did on his fifth birthday when his mother gave him her precious guitar. It’s a special feeling that Bellamy doesn't want to lose.

"On the house, man." The bartender hands Bellamy his drink and smiles brightly. 

"Thanks. Keep on playing that guitar." Bellamy raises his glass at the bartender, who in return nods his head enthusiastically.

Bellamy heads toward the back of the club where he sees his sister waving at him. Her eyes are lined with black liner and her temples and forehead are riddled with black glitter. Her hair is braided tightly on the sides creating a faux Mohawk and Bellamy wants to laugh because she looks like a mix of an 80s glam rocker and a wrestler. 

"Why are you late? I said 9:30, it's fucking 10 Bell! We go on in 10." Octavia asks with annoyance and a hint of nerves, yet underneath it all, he can see how excited she really is.

"Miller said he'd give me a ride but then he ended up having to work late so I had to take the subway. It's Saturday night the subway is a fucking nightmare. I needed to relax, so I got myself a drink." 

Bellamy raises the glass to his lips watching as his sister rolls her eyes.

"Follow me. I need to introduce you to everyone." Octavia grabs a hold of Bellamy's arm causing him to spill a small bit of his drink on his shirt.

Octavia drags him through a door and down a small corridor. They enter the first door on the right.

"Guys. This is my big brother Bellamy." Octavia announces to a group huddled together warming up.

The first person to come up to them is a lanky guy with black shaggy hair and goggles resting on top of his head.

"Holy fuck! It's so fucking nice to meet you!" He grabs Bellamy's hand and then yelps in pain, leaning awkwardly to cradle his broken hand with the other… broken hand.

"Shit, got so excited I forgot about the hand."

"Damn! That looks pretty bad, man. You must be Jasper." Bellamy says with a genuine smile gracing his lips. "Nice to meet you. Sorry about the hand." 

"I have Bellamy Blake ranked 4th on Rolling Stones Top 10 guitarist of ALL TIME fucking filling in for me! This is a dream come true!" Jasper says enthusiastically. 

"Monty can you fucking believe this?!" Jasper yells out. 

A skinny Asian guy with a black hoodie over his head and a sliver of spiky black hair peeking through smiles at Jasper. He comes walking forward with his hand in his pocket. 

"Monty, sound guy and all other tech shit." 

Bellamy introduces himself and shakes Monty's hand. 

"Harp, I need your keyboard," Monty says as Harper comes forward with her black keys.

"Hey, Harpy," Bellamy says with a wave.

"Bell." She gives him a small wave and a blunt, barely-there smile. 

"This is Raven our bassist." 

The girl in the far corner takes off the cherry red bass she had on and swaggers over with a smirk on her face.

"So this is the infamous dickhead brother turned hero." 

Bellamy instantly takes a liking to the brunette. Strings of hair frame her face while the rest of her hair is in a high ponytail. Her eyes are gleaming with mischief, and her lips are puckered a bit as she smirks. He watches her in wonder, curious as to how she’s managed her whole life not to become a global supermodel. 

She puts out her hand and Bellamy shakes it with a laugh.

"The one and only, but I'd prefer it if you called me Bellamy. Not dickhead." He replies with an easy smile, flashing his eyebrows flirtatiously. 

"Hey don't even think about it." Octavia eyes her brother with a hard look.

"I didn't even-" Raven cuts off Bellamy's attempt at an excuse.

"You don't have to worry about anything Octavia. I'm done with dickheads." She smiles cheekily at Bellamy.

Bellamy looks at the girl in front of him and can't even be mad at her insult. 

"Where's Clarke?" Octavia asks Raven.

"In the bathroom. She'll be out soon." Raven's demeanor changes to one Bellamy can easily read. There’s worry written all over her face, she’s trying to hide it but it’s there plain as day. Her eyes are filled with a fondness Bellamy knows isn’t directed at anyone else in the room. 

"Okay, big bro get your shit together we go on in like five." O instructs. 

Last night when he pulled out his guitar he was scared of what it would feel like to play again but when he played the songs Octavia supplied him with, he felt calmed by the rhythms. It had been really strange and Bellamy had been hoping it was just a fluke; he couldn’t get sucked back in. Not again.

And now Bellamy feels his chest tighten and his hands begin to shake at the prospects of playing. He grabs his drink and chugs the remaining contents in seconds.

"Don't you think you should at least try to be sober?" A raspy voice he hasn't heard yet says behind him.

Bellamy turns to see a girl before him, glaring up at him through icy blue eyes that look deeper than eyes should. Her long blonde hair had fallen in front of her shoulders in waves with electric pink streaks that dance under the light. 

Her lips purse as she waits for an answer but Bellamy takes his time to observe. She’s holding what looks like an ancient Sony Walkman connected to headphones that sit around her neck. 

It takes him mere moments to confirm that the girl before him is radiant. He can’t quite pinpoint why. She isn’t the type of girl he would hit on at a bar but there’s something. So he quickly protects himself, turning his back.

"No." He deadpans earning an eye roll.

"Some of us aren't some badass rock stars already. We need this gig. So, don't fuck it up." She takes the headphones off her neck, causing the long bell sleeve to fall back and reveal a constellation tattoo on her wrist. 

“Got a name?” He asks against his better judgment

"Clarke." She states. 

"Figured. You're the only person I hadn't met." 

She is glaring at him and it is causing the tightening in his chest to lessen, only to be replaced by his blood boiling. He eyes Clarke with disdain.

"You're the one who wrote these songs?" His tone is filled with snark.

"Yeah."

"Hmph."

"What?"

Her arms are crossed and she is full on giving him a mega-watt death glare. Bellamy can feel her hatred like a thousand suns piercing into his soul. 

"It's time guys. Let's fucking rock this." Raven calls out.

Bellamy looks back to Clarke and with a condescending smirk, says.

"Just didn't think a little rich girl who still uses a piece of shit Walkman would know how to write decent music. I guess the universe can still surprise me." Bellamy arches his brow and straps his guitar on.   
"Good luck out there. It can be pretty daunting for amateurs."

Bellamy walks away leaving a stunned Clarke fuming as she clutches her Walkman and maintains an icy composure. 

He chuckles to himself as he follows Octavia toward the small stage. Before they can exit she turns around and smiles brightly outstretching her arms and wraps one around his neck. Before he knows what’s happening they are in a small huddle. Octavia to his right and Raven on his left. Clarke is in front of him and is now smiling brightly, although it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. 

Bellamy feels his stomach drop a little. 

Everyone bows their heads as Raven says.  
"Okay, may the Gods of Rock lead us into a journey of epic-ness." 

The band hoots and starts swaying side to side as they began to chant/sing.

"Damn the dark, damn the light. Never break the chain. Keep us together."

Bellamy looks around and the sight of all these young kids in love with music and one another fills him with a feeling of awe. It feels like he’s intruding on something special as he watches them smiling and singing the lines over and over. They don't stop until Octavia gives a big whoop and they all follow her out the door and toward the small stage.

Bellamy lets everyone pass him by as he takes in a deep breath feeling the nerves hit him.

"Hey, come on big brother." Octavia turns and smiles encouragingly at him.

Bellamy feels the heavy nerves lighten and he follows his sister. As he walks onto the stage he hears a bunch yells and hoots of

"Fuck Yeah!"

"Bellamy!!!"

He feels the nerves and worry disappear as he watches the small crowd’s eager faces. He swaggers to the left side of the stage and sends a confident salute to the crowd, earning more cheers.

"We're The Delinquents and thanks for coming out to our show." Clarke's raspy voice echoes.

Bellamy looks to see her eyeing him with suspicion. Bellamy struts toward her and leans down whispering.

"I got this, Princess." earning a subtle but deathly glare. 

Bellamy chuckles to himself and turns to Octavia who begins counting them off.

On cue, Bellamy begins to strum the notes to the song. 

Bellamy looks to see his sister drumming with excitement plastered on her face as she moves to the music. She winks to Bellamy, making him chuckle. Watching Octavia in this state brings back memories of both of them playing in that dingy subway station. How things change.

"Loving you isn't the right thing to do. How can I ever change things that I feel? If I could maybe I'd give you my world." Clarke belts out as she strums on her guitar. "How can I. When you won't take it from me."

Bellamy shudders. Her voice is different, hypnotic almost. It’s a voice he would listen to forever if he could, he thinks to himself. It holds the raspy quality that only women from the classic rock era could achieve. Bellamy shakes his head rapidly, extinguishing the thought and with a look from Clarke he begins to sing along.

"You can go your own way. Go your own way. You can call it another lonely day." 

He gives her a smirk as he continues singing. The cocky leer breaks her mystified look and she instantly rolls her eyes. Clarke begins to sing the second verse and Bellamy looks to the other side of the small stage to see Harper looking at him. She's shaking her head with a small smile on her lips.

Bellamy then turns his attention to the crowd and can see they are feeling the song. There are people bopping their heads, others moving and dancing around to the song, and some singing along.

Bellamy struts forward to the edge of the stage as he plays, getting closer to a cluster of women. He's feeding off their presence and putting on a show for them causing louder cheers and hoots.

The music is filling his soul with an energy he didn't know it needed. He heads back to his mic to sing the backing vocals for the chorus. 

He's feeling so full of inspiration from the crowd and the music, without hesitation he heads into a solo that has everyone cheering and dancing. The vibes are electrifying and make Bellamy feel as if he's going to combust. Raven comes up beside him on her bass; she's swaying and hopping up and down, jamming right next to him.

"Fuck yeah." She shouts at him causing him to smile.

They go for a bit more feeding off one another’s energy. Once he feels like he's given his all to the solo, he turns to Clarke who is staring straight forward but nods her head to cue him to head into the last chorus.

"You can go your own. Go your own way. You can call it another lonely day. You can go your own way." They sing the last part of the chorus and the crowd responds with a massive applause.

Bellamy turns to see Raven and Octavia mouthing ‘Holy Fuck’ to each other. Harper is staring into the crowd with a stunned look. Then Bellamy turns his attention to Clarke who keeps her eyes towards the back of the room, her face not showing an ounce of the emotion that her voice did. Then like a commander on the battlefield, ready to take on the next round she turns to Octavia to signal for the next song. 

The rest of the show goes on like a majestic otherworldly experience. For the last six years, he'd felt disconnected; like he had been floating aimlessly in a dark sky. Tonight, it’s like the darkness has been illuminated by the bright lights of the gleaming stars.


	3. I Hate, You Hate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Guys!  
> Thanks you so much for the feedback on the last couple of chapters- it means a lot to both of us.  
> Keep it coming with the comments so we know how you lot feel!  
> Enjoy!!

~*CG*~

“Raven I don’t think I can do this” Clarke whispers to her friend as they both move into their beds the night before the first gig.

“Sure you can, you’ve always wanted to perform your own music”

She wasn’t wrong. Playing the songs she had written for the band had been terrifying, especially with them all watching her, eyes trained to catch the smallest fault. But as scary as that had been, the thrill of putting those words out in the open was great. She didn’t show them any of the new stuff, nor any of the songs she had written for Lexa but the oldies that she had collected over the years made their way forward.

And now, as hard as she had tried to convince the others not to include them, the set list for their first proper gig comprised mostly of her music.

Jasper was devastated when he realized he wouldn’t be able to play with hands that had been so smashed up and when Clarke heard that Octavia had invited her brother to join them she panicked. It was one thing allowing friends to play her songs but introducing them to a complete stranger was something entirely different.

“He’s good Clarke, I promise”

But that wasn’t what she’s worried about.

“I didn’t think we’d be getting gigs so soon if I’m honest” Raven says from across the room

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves Rey, it’s only a bar downtown”

“Always the pessimist” she grins, throwing a pillow over at the blonde

Setting up for the performance is hell. An amp breaks, one of Monty’s laptops crashes and Jasper almost puts his fist through a drum but they eventually reach 9:30 with their kit in place. Octavia slowly begins to place the tiny room backstage

“He should be here, why isn’t he here?”

“Chill O, you know what Bellamy’s like” Harper tries

“That’s what I’m afraid of”

Clarke can’t take the panic, not if she’s going to keep cool when she’s singing so plugs into her little stereo and begins to listen to the tape containing their setlist, tracing the small stars on her wrist delicately.

By 10, Bellamy arrives and he’s everything Clarke hates and more. The patchy leather jacket hangs from his shoulders, hair completely wild in ebony curls and a smirk that she knows must have taken years to perfect. She keeps her distance, not wanting to be distracted by the attention he’s now attracting so escapes to the bathroom. Splashing her face with cold water and breathing into the mirror is surprisingly calming, especially with the headphones still on her head playing her music.

And then she talks to him. And she feels it again, the wounding blow of spite. Tormenting her Walkman sparks something inside of her and the shields she promised herself she would put up when meeting new people shudder. Because he isn’t going after her hair, or her fancy guitar that, granted, doesn’t look like it quite belongs in the dingy bar. He’s targeting the Walkman, something so close and dear to her that she doesn’t quite know how to act.

So Clarke does what she knows best and shuts down. She doesn’t join in with the teasing jibes that the rest of the band share, nor does she speak up during the pep-talk. Choosing instead to throw herself into the music. She doesn’t take of the headphones when she plays but keeps the stereo in the back pocket of her jeans.

Playing, up on that stage in the dimly lit room isn’t as hard as she thought it’d be and soon enough she’s immersed in the words that stream from her mouth in tormented melodies. She feels the watchful eyes of the others on her when she sings, but that eases as they become more and more involved with the crowd.

She’s angry. She’s so angry at the snide comment the stranger to her left made. How dare he? She doesn’t care if he’s some big shot Hollywood rocker, how dare he judge her so quickly and target the thing she holds the closest.

When the band finish, she’s gone. Out of there before she can think, hopping in the pick-up that had travelled with her across the states so she could escape the weight of his insult. She runs. Because running has become the way Clarke copes best, away from all the spotlights and crowds screaming his fucking name. She wouldn’t let him know how deep he cut, for she is confident that Bellamy Blake will soon feel her icy presence whether he wants to or not. But for now, she allows herself to seethe.

Clarke’s phone rings ten minutes later

“Hey! Where are you? We’re all going out to celebrate”

“Sorry Rey, I’m not feeling so good. Thought I’d head home. But thanks for tonight, playing was great”

“You sure? You deserve a break, you rocked it up there”

“So did you! Go out, have fun, but I’m…”

“Clarke?”

“Sorry, I’m sorry” she chokes. She can’t cry, not anymore. It’s not that she doesn’t want to but it seems that her body has literally shut itself down after those months. It won’t let her heart cry out anymore. So she won’t cry but replace the method of outburst with anger. Must be some sort of immune response, she thinks sarcastically

“You guys go ahead, no I’m good…” she hears Raven mumble on the other end of the line before Clarke realizes she has to pull herself together.

“Sorry Rey I’m good, I promise. Just really tired and kinda just ready for my pjs. I’ll see you later yeah?”

“Sure but…” Raven replies, uncertain “You’ll call me if you need me right?”

“Of course. Now go celebrate, you were amazing!”

“So were you Griff, so were you”

The Walkman is streaming her father’s lullabies when she enters the apartment. One of the first tapes he’d ever made her himself containing all of his favorites at the time. And suddenly, she’s not so tired, not so exhausted, just raging with a pent up fury. Clarke grabs her acoustic guitar, chocolate mahogany shining in the dimly lit room, and begins a new chord progression. Testing the waters with each strum and adjusting the temperatures at certain moments. Scribbling the notes down on scrap papers of sheet music, littered around the floor near her bed, with an aged sharpie, she begins to channel the lyrics. It isn’t the most eloquent. Not sophisticated in any way but it’s what she needs. After tonight, Clarke has realized the potential of her voice. Knows the lengths of agony her melodic screams are able to convey. It doesn’t take long to fall asleep after this particular song.

/\\_BB_/\

The sounds of the music was still swirling in his head. The emotions that the music brought forth was what he'd thought it'd be like to hear colors and shapes; magnificent. Bellamy, had spent his whole life playing music. It had been his constant when everything else wasn't. Music had been what grounded him for years but then just like it had been everything; it wasn't.

He didn't know when it stopped being what kept his soul thriving and instead left it alone to darken. Music for the passed few years had been just another weighted task. He'd found no joy with music and had found other more darkening ways to fill his soul; but tonight had been different. It had been like his soul had been bathed in the light of a star so bright it had lifted a small fraction of the darkness.

Sitting outside on the fire escape with his mother's guitar in his hand. Bellamy looked up into the sky wishing he could see the stars but the lights were too bright, obscuring the view. He instead shut his eyes and let waves of golden hair fill his head and a voice that brought a lightness to his chest.

Bellamy shook his head. He still couldn't believe an ice princess like Clarke could create something so heartfelt. She wasn't what he'd expected when Octavia had said "You need to meet Clarke. You two are a lot alike."

He's expected her to be... well a dick and she had been; but he hadn't expected her to be so closed off. Especially, after he spent the night before getting familiar with her music. It was beautiful and opened up something inside him that he'd buried deep inside. A part of him he thought was gone.

That was what really unsettled him about Clarke. Her music was open and inviting and she'd been the exact opposite to him the moment they met. It was like she wasn't one person but two. Clarke the musician and Clarke the ice princess; both beautiful and haunting but the other unreachable. It was like she buried the Clarke from the music behind perpetual layers.

Even with those thoughts running through Bellamy's head he can't stop thinking about her. She captivated him in a way no one ever had. That night for the first time in years Bellamy begins to play his own music. He starts with a simple rift and plays it over in a wavering sequence. As the guitar strums turn into a more smooth clean sound he starts to hum and a picture forms in his head.

A young man and teenage girl both with matching raven hair and tear stains tracking their cheeks watch as their is mother laid to eternal rest.

"Time keeps passing by but it seems I'm frozen still, Scars are left behind but some to deep to feel." He sings, his voice cracking with deep seeded pain into the night.

/\\_BB_/\

Bellamy smiles as he looks up at the small light blue-grey house with white trimming and a quaint garage attached. He hadn't been here in close to ten years. If he tries really hard he can still see his mother sitting outside on the porch steps. Her raven hair falling straight over shoulders with her guitar on her lap as graceful hands played his favorite song.

The front door bursts open breaking the daydream. Only for Bellamy to be overcome with a heavy weight on his chest. There his sister stands looking like a mirror image of their long deceased mother. The tears in Bellamy's eyes threaten to expose themselves.

"It's too damn early for vodka. So, I have a fresh pot of coffee brewing for you big brother." Octavia calls out with a smile on her face.

Bellamy felt the weight lighten off his chest and he sighs in contempt.

"Have you ever tried mixing the two?" Bellamy says with a playful smirk.

/\\_BB_/\

How could a place look the same but also completely alien? Bellamy thinks as he looks around the kitchen. The bright yellow walls had been replaced with a pale grey and the kitchen appliances were all up to date. That part was his doing. When he'd bought the house he'd made sure that everything in it was up to date. He didn't want Octavia to be in any kind of danger in her own home. Bellamy only recognises the white cupboards overhead the stove. They are still glass paneled and the bottom left one still has a crack in it.

"Hey, remember when you tried to bake mom a cake for mother's day and it was so hard-"

"That when I threw it at you and missed it hit the cupboard and cracked the glass." Octavia finishes with the ghost of a smile on her lips.

Bellamy laughs at the memory of a ten year old Octavia covered in flour fuming at a teasing younger Bellamy.

"You always were such a dick." Octavia mutters right before she takes a sip of her coffee.

Bellamy laughs.

"I like to think I'm charismatic." He gives her a devilish smirk and quirks his eyebrow.

"Ugh, you are so pathetic." Octavia replies as she rolls her eyes at her brothers antics.

"Thanks for inviting me." Bellamy's tone is filled with sincerity. "I haven't been here since Mom."

Octavia averts her gaze as they turn glassy and clears her throat before saying.

"I appreciate what you did for us last night."

Octavia's answer isn't what Bellamy hopes for but plasters on a smile anyway. He hopes he doesn't look disappointed.

"I'll do anything for you, O." He places his hand on her arm giving it a light but reassuring squeeze.

She nods her head now looking at him with blue iris's brightening and her smile lighting up her face.

"Why didn't you stay to have drinks last night and celebrate. You're always up for a party." Octavia looks at him with genuine interest.

Bellamy looks down to his guitar case and gives it a whisper of a smile. Bellamy wanted things to be better between them. He knew the only way to mend the rift was to open up to his little sister. Even as his chest tightens and his eyes begin to sting. Bellamy clears his throat and gulps down the lump in his throat. He had to open up and show Octavia how he felt.

"I'm home!" Harper's voice echoes from the front door.

"Can we finish this after your band rehearsal?" Bellamy asks.

Octavia nods.

"Oh, I forgot to tell Harper you were coming." She gives him a sheepish smile.

Fuck.

"Is everyone here yet?" Harper questions as she comes through the kitchen door.

The smile on her face isn’t gone but it isn’t as bright.

"They are and we should probably get down their soon. First I need to get my sticks from my room." Octavia says making a quick exit.

Bellamy looks to the girl with her blond hair braided tightly on the side of her head. The rest is cascading in waves down her back and she's staring at the place Octavia just occupied with annoyance.

"She's trying to get us to talk." Harper states.

"I want us to talk, too."

"You left without a goodbye. I forgave you. You said you'd call me everyday and you did, but then you just completely stopped calling. That broke my heart. You were supposed to be my brother too." Harper's voice cracks and a tears falls.

Pain ripples though his chest and he clenches his jaw tightly. He didn't want to tell her the reason he stopped calling. It was too shameful.

"You never stopped being my family. You're still my little sister. That never changed." Bellamy stands up and pulls Harper into his arms. He holds her gently as he continues. "What changed was me. I became a fucking douchebag and I didn't want you and Octavia to be spectators. I never stopped loving my girls."

At that last sentiment Harper wraps her arms around Bellamy's waist and sobs. Bellamy closes his eyes tightly trying to will the pain away. He'd forgotten just how fragile Harper is. She was good at putting a strong front that Bellamy hadn't thought about how truly he could have hurt her.

"Don't ever leave us, again fuckturd." She says into his chest causing Bellamy to laugh whole heartedly.

They are both smiling at each other when Harper wipes her eyes and says.

"Come to the garage and help us, and when I say us I mean Jasper. I love the guy. He grows the best fucking weed and between him and Monty they brew the best moonshine, but he's no YOU. If we want people to react to us like they did last night we need him to fucking play better." Harper says as she pats Bellamy shoulder. "Think about it."

Bellamy watches Harper disappear. Should he help? He walks to the pot of coffee and pours more in his cup as he contemplates.

If Bellamy was going to be honest with himself he didn't want to help them. He wants to be apart of them and close to the brightness that Clarke's music and voice emanated into his soul; but that doesn’t matter. What matters is helping his two girls out. He was gonna have to go down there.

~*CG*~

“Griffin, please, my head hurts too much for that” Jasper groans, throwing one of the large bean bags that skirt the edges of the garage directly at her head. She looks up just in time from the guitar that she’s tuning to see it hurtling towards her and ducks swiftly.

“That’s because you stayed out doing tequila slammers until four” She comments, grabbing the bag, no longer mobile and falling down onto it.

“Speaking of… where did you go?” Jasper asks inquisitively

“I was just really tired after the gig” She says, looking down, her nails suddenly becoming intriguing to look at

“Yet you still had the energy to write?” He points suspiciously to the scraps of sheet music that are hanging out of her guitar case

“Ooooh you’ve written something new?” Harper asks, entering the room wearing aviators and a cami covered in a giant dream catcher

“I did, but thought I’d save you for an hour or two from the noise”

“Finally someone who understands” Harper grins, throwing an arm over Clarke’s shoulders while Jasper continues to groan

“I need coffee” He stands, chucking his hands in the air

“I think Octavia’s made some”

“I’ll come too” Clarke smiles as she shifts her headphones back up to her ears

The sounds of the others around her are drowned out as she enters the house, vaguely remembering the way into the kitchen after she loses Jasper’s lightning fast trail. She’s forced to cut the music off, however, when she feels the scolding burns of hot coffee dripping down the front of her flannel crop top

“Shit! I’m sorry, I didn’t- Oh” He exclaims, looking down at her shirt in a panic and flustering about the spilt drink before Bellamy lifts his head to meet her icy blue eyes

“Oh?” She breathes, the maintained eye contact an unspoken challenge for him to push her further, despite the burning across her exposed skin. There’s silence. For a moment that feels like a millennia. The air thick with the tension spilling from the closed mouths of both. It seems they had drifted closer, squaring each other up and despite his superior height, it’s him who concedes first. Bellamy drops his head and looks to her top instead

“Your shirt’s wet”

And that breaks it. The brewing animosity between them is replaced with anger. Pure and unadulterated antagonism that courses through Clarke’s veins hotter than any coffee that could have been spilt

“Yeah I’ve noticed that funnily enough” Her voice drips with sarcasm. “Thank you”

“Not a problem Princess” He fakes a short bow, tipping his head slightly, forcing her to stumble back a bit. God, she wants nothing more than to rip that fucking smirk off his smug face. She’s looking at his mouth, she knows this. Her contemplation of the conceited twist of his lips leads to her staring, ever so slightly. And he must notice this, evident from the spread of his smile even wider. She turns, hair flipping in her attempt to stride away from him but before she can escape the warm fan of his breath upon hers, he catches her arm and spins her back around

“That it?”

“What do you want from me- Bellamy, is it?” She asks, wrenching her hand back

“Nothing… it’s just” He begins, still with the egotistical grin eclipsing his face

“What?”

“Your Walkman’s wet as well”

“Shit!” She shouts, yanking it from her back pocket and running into the kitchen, in search of anything she can use to protect it. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” It’s not too bad. Fixable. The headphones are fine but the scarred contraption itself is dripping.

“I didn’t mean to” She hears Bellamy behind her, complaining in a tone that reminds her of a sulky teenager and before she realizes it, he’s taken the stereo and is fiddling with it, assessing the damage.

“Leave it!” She panics, knowing full well she can’t trust him with it. But he doesn’t give it back. Instead he pulls his shirt over his head and wraps it up, cradling the Walkman in some sort of cocoon. Clarke looks at him as though he’s crazy. Her brow furrowed and her eyes glaring out of rage. How dare he try to be helpful after that little stunt.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She seethes

“I’m helping” He replies calmly, still cloaked in the same smirk

“You’ve done enough”

She tells herself she hasn’t looked once at his toned, tanned, exposed torso or noticed the contours and valleys of his abs. She reminds herself, instead, to rip the stereo away from his arms and care for it independently. It’s her responsibility. No one else’s. Especially not his.

Once she’s cleaned the Walkman up, he’s gone. Probably got bored of waiting for the freak to stop obsessing over her freaking stereo, she thinks. Either way, she’s glad.

It’s Octavia who comes to see where she is. After placing the headphones back around her neck, Clarke notices the brunette leaning against the doorway quietly. Her face is unreadable, completely blank but Clarke knows she’s thinking up something, some meticulous plan. What O says is not what’s expected however:

“Sorry about him. He was never this…” she trails off

“It’s fine O honestly, no harm done I guess” Clarke assures, holding up the Walkman

“I think it’s weird for him being back. It’s like he doesn’t know how to act in his own home” she says, taking a seat at the island in the centre of the kitchen and gesturing for Clarke to sit opposite. “He’s been gone for so long and I was so angry, so hurt that he could just up and leave. I know what he did was for the best. God knows where I’d be if he didn’t go but I still lost the only person I really trusted you know? And we had both dreamt for so long to make it that it seemed impossible that he would do it without me”

Clarke doesn’t really know what to say. She sits, chewing her bottom lip, wondering why the girl opposite her is pouring her heart out to her of all people

“Losing our mom was hell. I didn’t think I’d ever wake up but, no matter how in pain he was, because he was Clarke, he was in so much pain, he made do and worked so hard to make something of himself. And then, when I wasn’t his core responsibility anymore, I think that’s where he spiraled”

“I didn’t know…”

“You wouldn’t, don’t worry”

“Why are you telling me all of this?”

“I think you’re it for us. For the band. Your music, it’s insane Clarke it really is. When I first told Raven about the band she threw your name at us straight away, and we all thought it was 90% bullshit, because no one’s that good you know?”

Clarke nods her head without really knowing what she’s agreeing to.

“And then you played and it hurt me. It took me back to those days of busking with our mom and it hurt like… I don’t know. But it hurt so much that I needed to hear more”

She pauses for a minute, collecting her thoughts

“I think that’s why Bellamy’s being… because your music reaches something that words can’t. You represent everything he’s afraid of but at the same time he has no idea what you are. The little quirks that you think people can’t see, well we see them. I think he sees them. And I guess that’s a bit… intimidating for someone like him.”

“I’m sorry, I haven’t been the most approachable” Clarke whispers

“That doesn’t matter” Octavia grins “It hasn’t stopped Jasper and Harper from falling half in love with you already.”

Clarke smiles too, because there’s a girl sat in front of her who knows, understands how it feels to be broken

“How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Stay happy?”

“I have you guys, and that’s all I really need”

Clarke’s face must read surprise for the brunette feels the need to go on

“You lot are my family now. We’ve all been screwed around but our music wouldn’t be so good if we hadn’t. You’re stuck with us now Griffin, all of us”

“Good” Clarke smiles, shyly

“So Jasper says you’ve been writing?” Octavia says as she stands

“Only a little, and I was half asleep so I don’t really think-“

“Clarke” O interrupts, placing her hand on the blonde’s shoulder. “Can we learn it?”

“Sure”

Everyone’s in the garage when the pair walk in, all talking amongst the bean bags. Clarke feels eyes on her as soon as they enter so turns her head to notice Bellamy watching cautiously. He’s smirking. The remnants of a laugh scattered across his face but his eyes speak tension when directed to her. She drops her head and goes to help O tighten her kit, still feeling the heated gaze.

“Where’ve you two been?” She hears Monty ask

“Just… talking” Octavia grins, winking at Clarke from below a snare.

“Your head okay now Jasper?” Clarke asks.

“I think so” He grins.

“You staying Bell?” O asks.

His view shifts to his sister for a moment and panic flashes across his face. His head hangs when he replies.

“I was going to, Jasper asked for some help, but y’know if you want me to go I can just-“

“Don’t be an idiot Bell” She shakes her head

When the two walk over to the rest, Clarke with her guitar in hand, the group seem to have congregated into a large ring of multi-colored bean bags

“Well this is cosy.” Raven comments.

“All we need now is a campfire and a couple of joints.”

Clarke hands out the scraps of sheet music, not really knowing the order but hoping everyone ends up with a complete set of the song. The others pounce, all eager to hear her next one.

“So this is a bit harsher, I guess, but if you guys don’t want-“

“Just play the damn song Griffin” Harper smiles

It’s too quiet, she thinks. Everyone silent in anticipation. Before she plays, Clarke lifts the headphones and presses play on the song she had recorded in the early hours of the morning. Much better, now it’s just like playing along on her own.

She begins to play, repeating the same riff for a couple of bars before she starts to sing.

“Every time we lie awake,

After every hit we take

Every feeling that I get

But I haven’t missed you yet”

She moves the headphones back down- “So this um, that’s where you’d come in” she nods to Octavia “and Raven I was thinking the bass could be a little something like this.”

Clarke quickly diverts from the main melody to play the few chords, aimed to Raven

“Every roommate kept awake

By every sigh and scream we make

All the feelings that I get

But I still don’t miss you yet

Only when I stop to think about it.”

She glances up for a second, away from the strings, to see the others. Raven, Harper and Octavia seem to be listening intently, absorbed in the sheets, doodling on them and writing their own parts to match the main tune. Monty’s eyes are focused on his laptop, typing steadily away and Jasper seems to be in some sort of trance the way his eyelids hood his eyes and his head is relaxed backwards. It’s Bellamy who is looking straight at her. His gaze is piercing. He’s not smirking anymore. No, he’s watching her as though he can see straight through her, with his elbows resting upon his knees so he can lean further forward. He is pretty far away, almost opposite her in the circle but the clarity between them is obvious. And then for some reason, she can’t bring herself to look away. His eyes are too intense, too intimate to break the spell.

“I hate everything about you

Why do I love you?”

Once again, she moves the headphones away, quickly pausing the track.

“I’m thinking the harmonies at this point would be- I hate everything about you” she sings again, raising her voice much higher than it was before. “But soft, you know, subtle.”

She waits for Harper and Raven to nod before she presses play and continues to strum the guitar

“Every time we lie awake

After every hit we take

Every feeling that I get

But I haven’t missed you yet

Only when I stop to think about it”

She hasn’t seen Bellamy like this before. It’s like his mask has faded completely and while his face remains blank, not giving anything away, his eyes read vulnerability all over

“I hate everything about you

Why do I love you?”

“And then you just kind of repeat that again,” Clarke stutters over the guitar

“Only when I stop to think about you, I know

Only when you stop to think about me, do you know?

I hate everything about you

Why do I love you?

You hate everything about me

Why do you love me?”

She carries on playing for a while. Turning the pause in the lyrics into some sort of freestyle riff that is masked by the track in her ears. She doesn’t know if it sounds any good but carries on anyway. Once she’s finished singing the last chorus, she removes the headphones, slightly breathless at having to sing so powerfully, and closes her eyes waiting for a reaction.

Bellamy stands up abruptly, dropping his gaze to the floor before muttering something about getting some more coffee. Clarke feels weirdly offended. He’d just sat and watched her perform something so passionate and now he’s going to just walk out? Fine. If that’s how it is. She doesn’t look at him once as he leaves.

/\\_BB_/\

Bellamy's hands shake as they hold his head. He is sitting in the living room of his childhood home and yet he doesn't feel in any way comfortable. Bellamy feels like a stranger in a home that is supposed to be his. Why is it that Clarke's music brought out his buried feelings? It's like her voice and music reach inside Bellamy's soul and grasp all the pain and hurt he keeps locked away only to set it free.

He hadn't realized just how much of it he'd buried. How much he really sometimes hated his beautiful loving mother for leaving him and O. For letting the demons that she'd passed to him win over the love she had for her children. Bellamy feels the tears gather in his eyes. Instead of letting the tears fall Bellamy grabs his guitar case and pulls out his guitar and notepad. He wasn't going to bury his pain anymore. No, instead he was going to make music out of it.

~*CG*~

Octavia ignores her brother’s hasty departure and instead, turns to Clarke diplomatically

“We can definitely work with that” she beams.

“You’ve gotta teach me that solo Clarke” Jasper pleads, rising from his own bean bag and falling upon hers, casually throwing an arm over her shoulders.

“That’s what Bellamy’s here for.” Harper laughs before looking back to Clarke “I think I’ve got something that can fit with that.”

“Do you think you could reach those harmonies Jasper?” Raven asks excitedly. “They’d probably sound cool coming from a male voice you know?” She asks Clarke, who nods quickly.

“Bell would probably be able to reach it.” Harper suggests.

“Bellamy isn’t in the band though.” Octavia says, thoughtfully.

“It’s fine, we’ll figure that out later. Rey do you want me to go over the bass?” Clarke redirects slightly, hoping the moment of tension can be glossed over smoothly.

They spend the rest of the morning learning the song, experimenting with different melodies and keys before recording it on one of Monty’s hard drives. Clarke notices that Bellamy doesn’t come back. When the band is happy with the finished product, they decide to call it a day for both Jasper and Raven have classes and Harper has work. Clarke hangs back for a moment, pulling Monty with her and passes him a clean tape.

“I was wondering if you could transfer the song? This tape’s full” she asks cautiously, her voice low and timid as she points to the one in her stereo.

“Sure Clarke, no problem” He replies smiling widely, taking the tape. “It’s a killer song”

She only grins in return, watching him walk away before she moves to collect her kit. When she’s finished, Clarke walks through the house, hoping to say goodbye to O, until she hears muttering coming from the kitchen

“You didn’t have to hide away you know” Clarke thinks that’s Octavia

“… too intense” She hears Bellamy’s gruff voice mumble back, dropping half the sentence

“What’s up with you? You’re acting weird”

“It’s her, O!”

“Clarke?”

“Who else?”

“Why?”

“Her voice, it’s just…. I can’t stop…”

“And that’s a problem?” O demands, suspiciously.

“No one writes like that O, no one”

“You do” Clarke hears the faint whisper

“I don’t trust her” She hears that loud and clear, causing her to stumble away from the door

“She’s been hurt Bell”

“By what? The weight of the money in her pocket?” Clarke doesn’t want to hear anymore. A feeling of disgust washes over her and she scrambles away from the hall, through the garage and finds herself sitting in her pickup before she knows it, driving away from the man who, she’s adamant, knows absolutely nothing about her.

/\\_BB_/\

Bellamy hadn't realized that the morning had flew by until he heard his sister calling out his name.

"In here." He'd replied as he wiped his face and drank the last of his fifth cup of coffee.

Octavia walks in with concern on her face and says.

"You didn’t have to hide away you know.”

Bellamy would like anything more than just to give Octavia an excuse but he wants to be honest with her. He doesn’t want to feel alone anymore.

“Yeah, I did. That song is too intense” He admits.

Octavia sits beside him and places her hand gently on his shoulder.

“What’s up with you? You’re acting weird.”

Bellamy feels like he's going to burst. The song he was writing has him on the edge and before he can stop himself he let's his emotion run rampage.

“It’s her, O!”

“Clarke?”

“Who else?”

“Why?”

Bellamy shakes his head and closes his eyes. He wanted to will the pain away and yet at the same time he wanted to hear Clarke sing again.

“Her voice, it’s just so fucking haunting and captivating." He stops and opens his eyes. Looking at his sister with his vulnerability on full view. "I can’t stop thinking about her and her music. I can't stop listening.”

“And that’s a problem?” Octavia questions.

She dropped her hand from his shoulder but is still looking at him with concern but now understanding is in there as well.

“No one writes like that O, no one” His words come out pained.

“You do.” O taps his notepad.

“I don’t trust her.” He says.

It was the truth. He didn't trust her.

His instincts kept telling him that she was gonna hurt his sister and if he let her get close; him too. He doesn’t think he could take anymore pain. As, if Octavia was reading his thoughts she says gently.

“She’s been hurt Bell.”

“By what? The weight of the money in her pocket?”

“You know that’s not true. You're just lashing out because you’re scared. She's making you feel again."

Bellamy sighs. Why was Octavia so good at reading him. Even after fucking six years she knew just what he was feeling. It makes him wonder if after all this time, she knows what he’s been hiding.

"I've been gone so long and yet here you are, still fucking reading me like a book."

Octavia smiles but it isn't bright, instead it's filled with sadness.

"You're right." Bellamy wipes at his eyes and clenches his jaw.

Octavia looks down at the guitar in Bellamy's hands for the first time and her eyes widen.

"Mom's guitar. I thought you pawned it"

"I did. When Miller found out he brought it. Gave it back to me the day I left."

"Fucking Miller." Octavia's voice is emotional as chokes back tears.

"I actually wanted to show you something I wrote last night after the gig."

Octavia swipes at her eyes and smiles weakly.

"A Bellamy original its been a long time. Color me intrigued."

"It's rough and when I'm writing I can hear so much more than this, but it's just me. So, bear with me on this."

Bellamy begins the opening sequence and starts to hum along as he plays. Then switches into clean strum and sings. "Collage of broken words and stories full of tears. Remembering your life cause we wish that you were here." Bellamy closes his eyes and pictures his mother's eyes full of mirth. A bright smile on her face as she sings. Then the memory fades and is replaced with her eyes rimmed red and her hair in disarray as she stares blankly into nothing. The pain of the memory builds causing him to bellow out a yeah and transition into a whoa to even it out.

"Nothing lasts forever. For all good days its true. I'd rather tread it all for somehow saving you. Cause we all need a reason. A reason just to stay. Some just can't be bothered to stick around another day."

The last words hit Bellamy and he can feel the tears threatening to fall. He channels the emotions into a quick solo. Then with the last bit of ache in his chest he shoves it all into the chorus.

"When all is gone and can't be regained. We can't seem to shelter the pain inside. We've all been victims of a crime. Victims of a crime."

He looks to see Octavia's eyes blood shot and tears running rampant down her cheeks.

"Living with this crime. I'm missing you. Im missing you. I'm missing you." He finishes.

By now all the emotions he's been channeling into the song have no where to go but out. A sob escapes Bellamy and Octavia flings herself onto Bellamy holding him close as they both cry.

"That songs about Mom."

He nods his head pulling away making sure not to meet Octavia's eyes because if he does, he knows he won't be able to say what he needs to.

"You know when-ugh-M-Mom killed herself I didn't realize just how much I resented her for it. That's why Clarke's song hit me so hard. I love Mom but sometimes I hate her for it." Bellamy is sobbing as the weight of his true feelings are revealed. "You know Mom is the reason we play music. When she died I closed off this piece of myself to music, and I hadn't realized it. Until you gave me the book filled with Clarke's songs to practice."

Bellamy watches as tears fall onto his guitar making little plop sounds. "For the passed eight years I hadn't so much as put a pencil to paper to write music. Because that was mine and Mom's thing. You know sitting here in this living room for hours writing, singing."

Bellamy's lips tremble.

"I just couldn't without her. Music couldn't speak to my soul anymore or at least I thought it couldn't. Until, last night. For the first time in eight years I felt like the old me."

He's wiping the tears from his face as he says. "Then Clarke sang us this new song and it was like it grabbed me and just pulled forth all the pain I'd been holding back." Bellamy finally looks up at his sister and sees that she has tears streaming down her face. She places her hand in his and squeezes it tightly.

"I didn't know, Bellamy." She sobs. "When Mom died I knew you were sad. We could have grieved together. Not that you stepped into the parent role and never let me see how bad your pain really was."

"You were a kid. My kid. I wasn't going to show you just how much pain and pressure I was under. You didn't need that." Bellamy says as he brushes Octavia's reddened cheeks.

"You didn't deserve to feel alone in your grief, Bell. I want you to know that I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was such a brat about you leaving me and I DO understand why you left." Octavia's eyes are filled with remorse and sadness.

"Why don't you come back home? Live with me and Harper."

Bellamy's eyes widen. He'd hoped she'd want him back here but didn't think she'd actually relent on her own accord.

"Yeah, I'd like that." He says with a genuine smile and hope filled voice.

/\\_BB_/\

When Bellamy opens the door to Miller's apartment, he’s surprised to see his best friend home. Miller usually worked nights as a security guard at some snobby corporate building.

"I've been trying to call you." He sounds agitated and then it all becomes clear why.

From behind Miller Bellamy sees a tall lean figure come into view.

"Hello, Bellamy." Echo says quietly.

Bellamy walks into the open living area where both Miller and Echo stood. He places his guitar case down against the couch.

"My phone died." He answers Miller.

Then he turns to Echo and feels his chest tighten. Echo looks at him pitifully, her eyes filled with genuine concern and that lights a fire

"What are you doing here?" He questions harshly.

Miller quickly makes an excuse of having to go to the store for napkins. Bellamy knows he’s just trying to give him privacy for what they both know is going to be a heated conversation.

"You know why." She says gently.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Bellamy questions.

He couldn't stop himself. He wanted, no needed to know. Echo's face is crest fallen.

"You were doing so much better. We didn't want you to lose control." Her voice is filled with sadness.

"Don't act like you fucking care about me! If you did you wouldn't have fucked around behind my back with Roan!" Bellamy spits out with venom laced through each word.

"You don't get to do that with me!" Echo yells, her eyes stern as she continues. "I loved you and in return you fucked anyone who'd so much as glance your way!"

His chest constricts and he knows she is right. She never deserved the pain he unintentionally inflicted on her. He was just acting like a selfish dick.

"I loved you too. I was just too fucked up to really love you the way you deserved." Bellamy quietly responded.

"I know." She says as she comes closer to Bellamy.

She hesitantly places her hand on his shoulder giving it a small squeeze.

"Kane called." Bellamy knew this was coming.

"He said you've missed two meetings and have been dodging his calls."

Bellamy shrugs, making his way to the refrigerator and pulls out a beer.

"Bellamy, you have to go. It's in the contract you signed. If not the record company will make you come back to the band or sue you for everything you have."

Bellamy arches a brow and pops the top off the beer. With a shrug he chugs half of it and ignores Echo’s look of annoyance.

"If you don't care about what happens to you at least think of Octavia."

If they sued him Octavia wouldn't be able to finish school. Who'd pay her tuition, bills, and the taxes on the house. She'd be fucked and have to focus on surviving instead of actually living.

"Has he called the label?" Bellamy questions.

"No. He said he wanted to give you a chance before he called, but said if you miss the one tomorrow, he will." Echo grabs the beer from Bellamy's hand and dumps the rest of it in the kitchen sink.

"I know six months of mandatory meetings seems like a long time but it will fly by." Echo is now back standing in front of Bellamy. She places a hand on his cheek and gives him a small smile. "Bellamy this will be good for you. We both know you need this."

His face warms where her hand caresses his cheek and he knows she still loves him. He might have loved Echo and probably always would, he just was never in love with her. He can see that she knows this sad fact as well and he wonders if she's always known. Bellamy grabs her hand and gently places a chaste kiss to the back of it before letting her go.

"I'm sorry. I really hope you're happy." Bellamy says genuinely.

Echo nods her head. The tears are almost to much for her to hold back

"I better get going." She responds making her way to the front door. She opens the door and then abruptly stops and turns to say.

"I saw the video of you and Octavia's band. It was like seeing you in that subway station all over again."

Echo looks at him sadly as she gives him one last smile before she closes the door.

Bellamy pulls at his raven curls and wants nothing more than to feel numb. Grabbing his guitar case, the six pack sans one, and his pack of cigarettes. He quickly makes his way to the fire escape.

He sits with a lit cigarette in his mouth and his notebook in hand. The streets aren't quiet tonight but that doesn't stop Bellamy. He tunes everything out and pours his tainted battered soul into every word.


	4. Found us, Like I have found you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read and left comments they are truly appreciated! Myself and cominguproses13x are so appreciative of all you and can't thank you all enough for your continued support.

Found Us, Like I Have found You

/\\_BB_/\

Bellamy's dark irises scan the room he's currently occupying. The color of the room is still a pale minty green and the window that looks out into the backyard still has the Dragon Ball Z sticker he'd stuck on when he was seven. Other than that the room looks and feels completely different. It's filled with a generic looking full size bed, dresser, a couple of nightstands, and two lamps. He feels like he's sitting in an IKEA minimalist display. 

Bellamy shakes his head and chuckles to himself. When he'd hired someone to furnish the house he didn't expect the room to be so fucking sterile. He'd noticed that the rest of the house had touches of Octavia and Harper. From the decals of bands on Octavia's bedroom door to Harpers framed signed posters of bands she'd seen over the years to the rings on the coffee table. 

Then there was the small things like the xbox hooked up in the living room that belonged to Jasper, Monty's small herb garden that sat in the kitchen windowsill, Raven's textbooks that sat on an end table in the living room beside a framed picture of the band and lastly sticky notes and little sheets of paper with lyrics and doodles scattered throughout the house that Bellamy recognized as Clarke's handwriting. The whole place was well lived in and worn but this room. It was untouched. It was like Octavia couldn't bring herself to come in here and Bellamy didn't blame her. 

He is having second thoughts as he sits on the top of the bed in the place he was now going to be calling his room. He hadn't realized that he wouldn't be getting his old bedroom back. 

Instead he is to start living in his mother's bedroom while Harper occupied his old space. Was he ready to live in a place that brought back bittersweet memories?

A knock interrupts Bellamy's thoughts and he looks up to see Monty standing at the door with Jasper at his side smiling. 

"Hey, I brought my equipment like you asked." Monty holds up his a bag while Jasper holds up two other ones.

"Thanks. I really appreciate it." Bellamy replies.

"What do you need us for?" Jasper asks the question he knew Monty was dying to ask.

"I wrote a song. I think it would be great for your band. I just think me singing it alone won't sound well. So, I was thinking Monty could create a backtrack for it. Then, maybe I could get everyone on board and you guys could you know play it." Bellamy explains as he wrings his hands. 

After his conversations with Echo Bellamy had written an amazing song and just couldn't stop singing it in his head. Especially, as he sat in the one place he hadn’t been prepared to be. Bellamy could feel his body reacting negatively to the situation and the unhealthy want that occupies. 

"By everyone you mean Clarke?" Monty finally says.

Bellamy nods his head in confirmation. He knew that Clarke could convey what he felt with her rapturing voice. That wasn't a problem he'd face, no it was getting her to agree to sing it that would pose the real problem.

Bellamy knew that Clarke had a very real dislike for him. Actually she was probably teetering closer to hate than dislike. Bellamy kept telling himself he didn't care. Why should he? Anyway, Clarke was the spoiled little rich girl who would leave the moment she'd 'find herself again'. Bellamy knew too well that people always left. Especially, if you are a Blake.

"We better start now if we want it to be ready for next band practice. Let's get to the garage." Monty says as he motions for Bellamy to follow him and Jasper.

"While we’re at it. Do you think you have time to help me figure out the solo Clarke plays for the new song?" Jasper asks Bellamy with a tinted red cheeks.

"Of course, man. We'll work on it till you can play it in your sleep." Bellamy answers clapping the lanky boy’s shoulder. 

Earning a fuck yes and mega watt smile from the goggle wearing guitarist.

/\\_BB/\

Bellamy walks into the kitchen to see Harper sitting at the small kitchen table. Her keyboard is  sitting atop and she is looking at sheet music. Her face is scrunched in concentration and her fingers are ghosting over the keys as if she’s playing. 

"Why don't you just play it. I can see you've got it down." Bellamy says to her as he walks in and toward the fresh pot of coffee. 

"Not all of us are naturals when it comes to music." Harper bites back. 

"Yikes." Bellamy says as he shrugs his shoulders and takes a sip of his coffee.

Harper lets out a sigh. 

"I'm sorry Bell. I...ugh! I just can't get this right." 

Bellamy places his cup down and walks toward Harper placing his hand on her shoulder with reassurance. 

"You know what works for me when I'm stuck?"

"What?"

"I play something else." 

Harper arches a brow as she looks at him skeptically.

"Trust me." Bellamy says as he grabs a chair and sits right beside her.

"I've had this rhythm in my head for a while and I just can't get it out."

Harper nods her head as Bellamy starts tapping the keys in a rhythm that had been pestering him. He watches as Harper nods along and then on the other end of the keyboard adds some higher notes. 

"Dun-Dun. Dun-dun. Dun-Dun." Bellamy hums as she starts playing it on the keyboard. 

Bellamy watches as Harper brings to life the rhythm that'd he'd been hearing in his mind for days now. She adds notes he hadn't thought of, they add life to it and he knows he has a new song approaching. 

"We are on to something. Let's get to the garage so I can play my guitar." Bellamy says.

Harper nods her head eagerly and follows Bellamy. 

For the next couple of hours Bellamy and Harper play together creating a beautiful instrumental of piano and electric guitar clashing like a storm. 

The door to the garage slams causing the creative session between Harper and Bellamy to suddenly stop. They both look up to see a red faced Clarke pulling off her ever present earphones that are connected to her ancient contraption.

"Sorry. I didn't think anyone would be in here yet." Clarke apologizes.

"A little bit hard of hearing aren't we now, princess?" Bellamy teases.

Clarke's face grows redder but now in anger. She shoots him the bird and walks to Harper giving the girl a hug. 

"You want to hear what Bellamy came up with?" Harper asks Clarke.

"Sure."

"WE. Not just me." Bellamy corrects Harper. 

She beams at Bellamy and begins playing.

As they play Bellamy watches as Clarke’s eyes widen, lips part, and her chest heaves up and down. He takes immense pride in seeing that She's inthralled by the sound of their musical masterpiece and Bellamy wants to let Clarke be his muse so before he can chicken out he starts singing.

"What if the storm ends?

And I don't see you

As you are now

Ever again

A perfect Halo

Of gold hair and lightning."

Harper yells out to Clarke.

"Write what he's singing down. We hadn't come up with lyrics yet." Clarke nods her head frantically and pulls out her notebook from her backpack. 

She scribbling like a mad woman and Bellamy knows she doesn't have to write it down. He'd remember these lines always. Clarke looks up and gives them the go ahead to continue.

"The silver forked sky

Lit you up like a star

That I will follow

Now it's found us

Like I have found you

I don't want to run

Just overwhelm me"

Bellamy stops singing and they continue playing the music. As he's playing Bellamy realizes that this music is how he's felt since he met Clarke. He'd been drawn to her light and has been following it since the moment he'd heard her sing. This was the manifestation of his intrigue of Clarke.

They finish the rest of the song and when Bellamy looks to Harper she is eyeing him funny. 

"Wow, that was amazing." Clarke says as she looks between the two. "The way you got the two to sound like they were battling one another but it’s like it wasn't destructive. Instead it was like a storm. The way a thunder reacts when lightning strikes." Clarke finishes with a smile that reaches her eyes. 

Bellamy's stomach flutters as he hears her words and watches as her eyes glow with appreciation. 

"Thanks." Bellamy gives Clarke a small nod and the says."I better be getting out of here. Prior engagements."  

"I thought you were gonna be at practice today. You know Jasper needs you." Harper looks worried. 

Bellamy chuckles.

"Jasper's not a bad guitarist. I actually think he's... inspired." Clarke defends the goofy kid. 

Bellamy smiles to himself, oddly touched in a way he can’t quite accept.

"Clarke's right. He is really good."

"I know, but he's no you. I keep saying if we want a reaction like the one we got last week. Jasper needs so much help." Harper's bluntness doesn't surprise him. She's always been this way but he doesn't know if Clarke is used to Harper. So, he turns to see her reaction.

He grins when he sees her smiling at Harper and shaking her head. 

"Give him a break. Both his hands are banged up."

"One hand is already broken. I can't give him a break, if I do we are out of a lead guitarist." Harper jokes earning a laugh from Clarke.

"Don't worry. I'll be back in time for practice." Bellamy reassures Harper.

This earns a sigh of relief. Harper gets up and gives Bellamy a tight hug.

"Thanks for this Bell. I really needed this." Harper says causing Bellamy's heart to warm.

"Anytime." 

"I'm gonna get some coffee. Clarke would you like a cup?" Harper questions as she let's go of Bellamy.

"Yes, please." Clarke replies standing up from the bean bag she'd been sitting on.

"Alright. I'll be back. See you later Bell." Harper is gone in a flash leaving Bellamy and Clarke alone.

Bellamy has his back turned toward Clarke as he places his guitar in it's case. 

His neck tingles as he feels Clarke's eyes on him but he lets her stew until she’s ready. He can hear her fidgeting with the buttons on her walkman, something he'd seen her do over the last week. He noticed it was what she did when she was thinking too much, too hard. 

Bellamy grabs the sheet music from the stand and turns to Clarke.

"Spit it out." He says.

Clarke's fingers stop mid push on her walkman and she looks up at him. He watches as she gains a bit of courage.

"I was wondering if you'd be okay with me finishing the lyrics and maybe even adding more to the music?" Clarke is timid when she asks. 

It causes Bellamy's chest to tighten and his stomach to ache. She looks vulnerable and he wants to ignore the way her eyes are glistening like waves when the sun hits them just right. 

"As long as you include Harper." Clarke nods her head and replies with an _'of course'_. 

Bellamy walks up to Clarke handing her the sheet music. He is standing so close to that their shoes are almost kissing and he can feel her breath on his exposed chest from his deep cut v-neck. Bellamy smirks as he gently tugs on a piece of her blond hair and says. 

"Well, then it's all yours, Cherie Currie." 

Clarke rolls her eyes and runs a hand through her hair. Bellamy eyes linger on Clarke's face. He tries to memorize how her cheeks are tinted pink and how her eyes flutter. Then with what he thinks is a cocky grin Bellamy saunters to leave, but before he exits Clarke calls out.

"See you later, Joan Jett." 

Bellamy instantly laughs and sees Clarke giving him a wicked sly smile and it’s the first time Clarke had ever really looked at him with anything other than dislike. Bellamy feels his heart swell and his palms moisten as he watches her face brighten and glow not unsimliar to that of the night sky

~*CG*~

When Clarke marches back into the studio the next morning, she fully intends to refuse to even acknowledge Bellamy Blake’s existence. His comments from last night’s encounter have only deemed to reinforce her ignorance and she wants nothing to do with him. Not a single thing. His assumptions and sly smirk have switched something inside of her, the rage that’d been long since burnt out. And she knows she doesn’t want it anymore, not since Lexa. So she’ll ignore him. He can play with her friends all he wants. He can watch their rehearsals from the distance but no. To Clarke, he is as good as gone. That is, until she hears the song.

It’s a glimpse of someone else. Watching him play, with eyes completely focused on the music, full and round and mesmerized by harmonies, she doesn’t recognize the fool who thinks all she is, is a self-entitled brat. It isn’t like watching her bandmate’s brother, and for some reason it isn’t like watching the infamous celebrity from the past. He just looks like someone else completely. Like when you hold a spoon to your face, and at first the reflection is distorted and makes you feel… ugly. But then you twist it, just a touch, and the light shines just right and the angle airbrushes your imperfections and you’re left staring at an image that you know is you but somehow isn’t? It’s fleeting. Only a moment but he’s standing in front of her, singing lyrics she suddenly knows she can complete and Clarke decides fuck it. 

So she asks, she gives herself some time. Constructing the argument over and over which, upon reflection seems unnecessary due to his immediate agreement. Clarke supposes she should feel guilty for hijacking their song, somehow she doesn’t. She’ll add to it what she wants and if they like it, they can have it. And selfishly, she knows they will. It’s their song after all.

They don’t rehearse for long that day, everyone seems to have something going on. Mostly work but Jasper, Raven and Monty have classes that neither can miss. For that Clarke is grateful. Rehearsing every day can get… intense, and she’s not quite sure her voice can keep up with all of the strains. Not yet anyway. Plus, practicing with the band feels somewhat ethereal, like the small garage is acting as some sort of shelter from the outside world and if she closes her eyes, just for a second, Clarke thinks she might just disappear. So going back to work for the day is healthy, she tells herself. It’s mundane. God knows she needs something normal right now.

She’d told Lincoln she would work a double shift, something she comes to regret when it reaches eight o’clock and Clarke realizes she’s only halfway through. Bartenders had always been a mystery to her. In the movies they’re made out to be like the wise old men, the ones who slap the protagonists out of their ignorance. Or the ones who act as aids when everything turns to shit. Or even the ones who provide the tiniest bit of humor at parts when comedy is the last thing on anyone’s mind. But Clarke isn’t any of that. She doesn’t really know how to be. Her biggest challenge is making sure the drinks on tap just reach the lip of the glasses, or repeatedly relaxing her face to make sure the natural purse doesn’t scare away any customers. In fact she does her best to avoid the common stereotype of chit-chat by wearing some plastic earphones, concealed beneath her blonde curls to deter those that sit by the bar and linger. The volume low enough the hear any orders, but loud enough to drown out the meaningless grievances of drunkards. 

She’s seriously contemplating escaping for a few minutes, out the back just for some fresh air and begins to reach  a decision when they walk in the door. Raven enters first, nodding over to Clarke in acknowledgement, followed by the others. He enters last, the patchy leather jacket hanging by his fingertips and the signature smirk directed towards his sister, who’s walking hand in hand with Harper cheerily. None of the others have seen her yet so Clarke ducks slightly, just dipping her knees so that her chin rests upon the taps of endless beers. She won’t be able to hide for long, not with Raven pointing over shamelessly at the mess of blonde and pink hair amongst the spirits, so Clarke tries her best at nonchalance. 

It’s an easy job. 

She took it because it’s something to keep her hands busy, so that they aren’t itching for the guitar. Another perk is the fact that the owner lets her wear her headphones whenever she’s on a shift, as long as she remains focused and can actually hear her orders, Lincoln’s fine with it. And above all, you could say that New York City is a step up from Texas, in terms of cost and the tips she gets from the regulars make all of the handsy drunks worth it. It’s not luxury, but it is what it is.

And she does not need the others fucking it up for her, so she shoots Raven her best glare and goes back to wiping the bar down with a checkered cloth that’s been worn and become ashen over time. Raven just sticks out her tongue, and pulls out a pad which Clarke recognizes, even from back here, as her writing journal. And then Monty pulls out his laptop and headphones and Clarke realizes why they’re there, they’re writing without her. She sighs and storms over with her utility boots clacking against the sticky floor, because there is no way she is going to be left out and not have something to say about it. 

“We’re only serving food for another hour so if you want to eat, move it” She huffs, noticing Bellamy’s guitar case down by his feet

“Well I don’t know Princess, what would you recommend?” He asks, pretending to read over the scrap of a menu

“Depends what you’re in the mood for I guess” She straightens up, glancing to Octavia who has her lips clamped together, as though she’s waiting for something to happen as she flickers back from the two of them. “You like heat?”

The six of them are sat around a U shaped table, the leather seats bronzed a cherry red with Jasper and Harper lining the inside and Bellamy and Monty flanking the ends. So she’s standing above him, tapping her foot impatiently despite the smile forming across her mouth.

“Sure, gotta be careful though” He teases, leaning forward to lower his voice. “Don’t want to get burnt”

“Well if you can’t handle it…” Clarke finishes, turning and walking away, unable to hide the smile much longer. But soon enough, she hears the footsteps behind her and when she goes back behind the bar, he’s sat on a stool and leaning heavily onto the surface.

“What now Bellamy?” She sighs in defeat. He just watches her as she shuffles around until she adds “I’m trying to work here” 

“Am I bothering you?” He asks, suddenly taken aback if the slight lean of his head means anything

Clarke doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t shoo him away. Instead, he sits watching casually as she shifts the headphones back to her ears and pours him a drink, sliding it down the bar until he catches it smoothly, raising the whiskey in thanks.

She doesn’t really know what he’s doing, why he isn’t over there with the rest of them but to be perfectly honest, she doesn’t mind. And Clarke, though reluctantly, eventually orders some fries placing them equidistant between her and the man with shaggy, greasy black hair that she, for some God forsaken reason, wants to touch. 

“Watcha listening to?” He tries once the fries have been eaten. And Clarke goes to answer, she does, but Raven struts over to where they are, and takes a seat.

“Griff we need you when you’re free”

“You do?”

“Well why else would we be here?” Bellamy chips in, and Clarke recoils at the lack of malice. 

“I thought- I guess you just-“ she stammers, eyes fluttering in an attempt to organize her thoughts. The amused look he sends her way doesn’t go un-missed and she straightens, holding her head high despite the chaos that remains in her head. “I’m working til twelve- you’ll have to start without me” she says apologetically. 

“Nah it’s fine, we were all just gonna touch up our parts for the new one but I’m up for taking a break” Raven reassures, leaning forward to reach for a glass behind the bar. She doesn’t seem to notice the funny look a man nearby shoots her. “Some kid almost blew up the lab today and even looking at Jasper’s fucking goggles makes me want to kill him”

“Jasper did it?”

Raven just nods at her drink, wincing at the memory and Bellamy laughs lowly. 

“What’re you studying?” He asks

“Aeronautics” 

He looks sufficiently impressed before turning to Clarke and asking the same question. 

“I’m not. I was a med student. It didn’t work out” She says shortly

“Am I ever gonna know why?” He returns, catching her tone and leaning in again, just for her.

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up” Raven intercepts, too busy finishing her drink to notice how the other two’s eyes wouldn’t stray from the other’s. He’s not teasing her, not baiting her, Clarke knows that. He just seems… curious?

“The Stones” She says, quietly, focusing on pouring her next customer a Guinness so she doesn’t have to look up.

“Huh?” Raven asks

“It’s what she’s listening to” Bellamy smirks, and Clarke winks at him. The smallest of winks that if he wasn’t watching so intently, he would have missed. 

Octavia joins them a bit later on, begging Clarke to come and join the others on the dancefloor, which has completely livened up within the last half an hour. Raven agrees, throwing her hands in the air and straightening her jeans before running out to Harper’s open hands. Clarke has to repeatedly remind them that she’s working, but it usually goes unheeded and no matter how many free drinks she slips them across the bar, they don’t quit it. 

Bellamy remains where he is though, and when she asks why he isn’t dancing, he only shrugs gruffly and changes the subject. It’s a struggle to keep a conversation going when the place becomes more and more busy, but he’s making an effort for probably the first time and she’s not going to pass it up. 

Clarke notices Lincoln walk in, at around eleven, and grins when she sees him catch Octavia’s eye. It’s a barely there interaction but his entrance makes Octavia pause her sultry movements for just a moment and he stops in his tracks as though he had been punched in the chest. He approaches Clarke and she hastily removes the headphones much to Bellamy’s amusement, but the smile on his face disappears the second Lincoln asks about the brunette over there. 

“She’s his sister” Clarke whispers to him, gesturing over to Bellamy and Lincoln dips his head under the other man’s scowl before moving to walk away. Clarke grabs his arm though, and lowers her voice even further when she adds “She’s single”

Which ultimately makes his mind up as he strides over to the mass of her drunken friends. 

Eventually a song that isn’t just mindless thumping plays across the room and Clarke can’t help herself when she starts to tap her foot against the tiled floor, moving her hips and shoulders to the side as she carries glasses back and forth. And Bellamy starts to fidget on his stool, swinging his legs awkwardly. 

She laughs as she asks “You like this song?”

“S’alright” He shrugs, smiling a little

“It’s more than alright” Clarke grins, still shuffling around the bar in what she hopes she can pull off as a dance, but must instead look like some weird twitch to any onlookers. There are people calling her left, right and centre and Clarke begins to wonder what on Earth possessed her to work a double before a slightly inebriated woman slaps two twenties on the counter and then, the thought almost evaporates. When Clarke returns, about a minute later, the song is still in full swing with the beat matching the time of her hips and it’s the first time she notices him staring oddly; in a way that may usually be perceived to be amusement if it weren’t for the furrow in his brows. 

“What?”

“The more time I spend with you, the more you confuse me” Bellamy says, shaking his head at the empty glass

“Why’s that?” She asks, cocking her head to the side so that her vision goes wonky- hoping maybe at this angle, things will become a little clearer. They don’t though because he only looks up and smirks before asking

“Why are you dancing?” As if that is an answer to her question. And it isn’t. It only makes her feel more exasperated. Clarke’s never been one for self-conscious though so she only increases her movements, hoping it doesn’t just make her look like a caricature of before.

“I like dancing”

“You don’t seem like the kind who likes dancing” He replies, unconvinced and she can’t help but laugh at the irony of it.

“I’m a musician?” She laughs, slightly incredulous

“I’m a musician” He shrugs

“Then why aren’t you dancing?”

“I don’t dance” He mutters sternly

“Sure” Is all she can say before another silence falls upon them so she can refill his drink.

“What’s with the tattoo?” Bellamy asks suspiciously when she hovers back over, having to stretch over the surface to reach his coaster and by doing so, pulling the sleeves of her black button down up slightly, flashing dark specks of constellations.

“It’s a long story”

“You got a lot of them, ay Princess?” It’s phrased as a question yet she still catches the tone

“Wouldn’t you like to know”

“Well, since you’re getting pretty cosy with my family, yes I would” He snarls, narrowing his eyes and tensing, ready for this to turn sour.

Clarke leans over the counter, bracing herself as much as she can given her stunted height.

“I don’t give a fuck whether you trust me or not Bellamy”

“Good. Because I don’t”

“Your sister does” She smirks

“No, my sister likes your voice”

It’s a low blow and she knows it, bringing Octavia into it, but his comment makes her recoil and suddenly a wave of exhaustion hits and she knows nothing can be said to stop his bitterness.

Clarke takes a large breath, exhaling it out in a long sigh before she begins.

“Listen, I don’t know what you’re trying to do here but I am tired of arguing, so I’m gonna tell you straight; I’m not leaving, there’s nowhere for me to go and for the first time in a long time, music is helping me again. You’re home for reasons I don’t know, I shouldn’t know and in all honesty, don’t give a fuck about knowing because, although I’m not some faux Hollywood rocker pretending he gives a shit about the music he’s writing, I know when music is good and I’m not gonna let you stand in the way of me making that. You don’t know me. You aren’t going to know me. So stop pretending you do and let me dance and clean and pour your fucking drinks in peace”

Bellamy doesn’t say anything for a long time, just stays with his head up and looking straight into her eyes. He’s not retaliating like she expects, but he’s holding his ground and something in her caves at the sight of ferocity in his eyes. Clarke doesn’t want to fight, not anymore. The song is reaching its end, just approaching the part where things descend into chaos and all the instruments play at once.

“I really like this song” He mutters, his voice hoarse and raspy and she has to clear her throat before she can reply.

“It was on one of my first tapes. Not the first, he didn’t like it that much, for a while he said the song was too poppy. But it’s there”

“How many of those you got?”

Clarke shrugs “It’s in the twenties. A few of them are mine though” 

“Your songs?”

“Yeah”

It takes a moment, but then he starts to grin, flashing slightly crooked teeth as he does

“You know, I’ve heard of these things, I think they’re called iPods. Apparently they’re like magic; can carry thousands of songs and only about that big” Bellamy brings his hands up, forming a rectangle with his fingers until she smiles weakly and shakes her head.

“It’s not about that”

Bellamy mirrors her expression, with something small and hopeful glinting in his eye when he whispers back

“No, I didn’t think it was”

Clarke’s about to reply, not quite sure in the exact choice of words but she’s about to say Something when Octavia and Raven come barrelling over.

“Clarke! It’s quarter past!” Raven hollers from across the bar

“Thank God” She smiles, drooping against the counter, all professionalism forgotten. “I’ve been craving my bed for hours”

“Nope. No way. We have not waited this long for you just so you can shut us down. You’re dancing with us and that’s final”

“It’s not even that late” Raven chimes

“Just one dance and then I’ll even make Bell walk you home” Octavia adds

“I can take care of myself!” Clarke can only exclaim, shoving her arms to her chest in defense.

“Brave fucking princess” She hears from her side, before shooting Bellamy a look.

“Clarke it’s a rough area and there’s no way you’re going alone”

“It’s only a couple of blocks away”

“And you look like that” Raven points, gesturing to the low cut of the button up, down past her short skater skirt to the fishnet stockings that lead to her utility boots. Clarke gets what they’re trying to say, if Bellamy’s nod of agreeance is anything. But she wants to play innocent, it’s probably the only thing that’ll get her out of this.

“Exactly. I’m all sweaty, my hair’s a mess and my uniform” She says pulling at her clothes. “Not exactly a target right now”

“You’d be surprised” Bellamy sighs gruffly

“Please, please, please”

“O…”

“O?” Bellamy asks, frowning a bit at the nickname. It makes Clarke worry she might have overstepped some line so she does what she can to redirect the conversation.

“One dance”

“Yes! Jasper has been moaning for hours about this”

“He better watch his fucking hands” Clarke jokes as she lets the others pull her in to the thick of it, and when she turns around only to grind against Harper to the particularly sultry song, Bellamy’s eyes are firmly on her, as if he’s so used to falling into this contact that he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing. Either way, his gaze stays fixed, watching her throughout the entirety of the song.

/\CG/\

“You ready?” He asks, laughing when she bounds back over, sweaty and breathless

“You don’t have to walk me”

“I’m heading that way anyway” He shrugs, reaching for his jacket

“No you’re not” Clarke can’t help but laugh. “Don’t forget I know where you live”

“Is that a threat?” He grins

“No” She gasps, dropping her head so she can gather the hair that had fallen down during the dance, back up to its original position. 

They don’t say much for some time, just wander along the sidewalk. She watches as their shadows elongate and shrink beneath the flickering streetlights, wondering if the height difference between them is really that big. Something inside of Clarke wishes she wasn’t just wearing her black uniform and could have maybe thrown on some eyeliner, but she shoves the thought down.

“Those things will kill you” She says, nudging his shoulder when he moves to light a cigarette

“Ah, well, something has to” He sighs back. “Eventually”

“My dad let me try one of his cigars once. In the back of my truck when we were…” counting. She wants to say, but logic stops her, thankfully. “I puked” She says instead, hoping he can ignore her moment of silence. He does but the side-eye he sends her way shows he didn’t quite miss it. 

“Smooth”

“Why do you do it?”

He takes a lengthy sigh before he starts and Clarke turns to listen. “The world is loud, right? It’s so fucking loud. And most days we can handle it. We just join everyone else and shout into that void and hope that that can manage the chaos in here”

Bellamy raises his hand, and she thinks he’s gonna point to his own head, but he doesn’t. his fingers drift up to her temple and rest there for a moment, lingering upon the skin, until they push back the stray hairs around her eyes, tucking them neatly behind her ear. And all Clarke can do is stand there with her mouth dropped open. And then his hand is gone and he looks forward to carry on.

“But then there’s those moments where your ear drums aren’t just vibrating anymore, nah they’re…”

“Shattering?” She offers

“Shattering”

And Clarke gets it. Gets what he’s trying to say but it isn’t enough, so she carries on.

“And it gets so loud that you can’t hear anything anymore. You feel like you’re screaming and howling and yet-“

“Nothing” He nods. “Like you’ve dropped off the face of the Earth and you’re in this vacuum that’s spinning you around so much that you’re still and frozen in some sort of stagnant tornado....

That’s why I smoke” He grins to her, his eyes gleaming under the twitching lights. “I breathe this shit in, and it burns all the way down to here." His fist lands on his stomach and he continues, "Like it’s fighting its way out”

She smiles too, helplessly. “That’s what the tapes feel like. My lungs are on fire and they get scorched and it hurts so bad but…”

“But. It’s better than all this” He says, waving his hands around in the air until Clarke catches the one holding the lit cigarette and takes it, breathing it in, all she can until she feels the burning and has to wrench it away from her mouth so she can cough the smoke up. Bellamy watches on and laughs loudly at the sight of it, but he doesn’t take it back. Just reaches for a new cigarette and lights that one instead.

“Thank you, for walking me home” Clarke says when she can see her apartment block. She shrugs off the leather that he had thrown over her shoulders and hands it back to him, trying her best not to flinch when their hands touch.

“It’s nothing. Pretty girls can get eaten alive on these streets if they aren’t careful. Why are you here anyway?” He asks, pointing to the crumbling apartment

“What do you mean?”

“Well you don’t exactly look like the kinda girl to be living in a place like this”

“C’est ce que c’est. This city, this apartment, this job. It’s not luxury, not what I had. But it makes me feel like…”

“Like?” He prompts, his face reading curiosity and in the light it looks almost innocent. Almost.

“It doesn’t matter”

“It does”

“Like I can be okay” She gives in. “Happy even. Like maybe one day, I can laugh at something and not have to catch it when I realize what I’m doing. Like I can play without it stinging and just…”

He looks like he’s about to say something, push on, but she doesn’t want to talk anymore. Too much has been said. 

“Goodnight Bellamy”

He leans back and sighs, but only nods his head.

“Goodnight Clarke”

And its when she’s opening the heavy fire door to the building that he spins on his heels to call back.

“Hey!”

“Yeah?” Clarke calls back as he walks towards her

“You aren’t half bad Griffin” He smiles, one side of his mouth lifting and she laughs at the negligible comment that somehow weighs a tonne.

“No?”

“No with you…” He starts, looking at those scuffed up boots that she has begun to loathe. But she waits, for what feels like forever, for him to raise his head, staring straight into her eyes to whisper out seven strangled words. “The world seems that little bit quieter” 

And then he’s gone, before Clarke can release the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, he’s sprinting back down the sidewalk, masked by the night sky who’s face is scattered with the stars that tonight, for some weird reason, don’t look so intimidating 

/\\_BB_/\

"Yo, Miller! I'm here. What the fuck is so urgent?" Bellamy calls out as he walks into his best friends apartment. 

He see Miller sitting in the living room on his laptop. He turns to Bellamy and is smiling brighter than his shiny ass head.

"I take it you haven't been on twitter." Miller is practically beaming. 

"Nope, not since I was being bombarded with sympathy tweets." He answers.

He hadn't been online and honestly had no intentions of getting back on anytime soon. It was annoying to have so many strangers tweeting you their sympathies on your private life.

"Somebody at the Delinquents' show posted a video of you playing with them and it's gone viral!" Miller says excitedly. 

"So?"

Miller's expression is incredulous. 

"What do you mean so? The video was posted two days ago and has gotten 950k views and counting." Miller motions for Bellamy to sit. "Look at the comments. People are talking about how great the band is. They are excited to see you with a new band and really like the lighter sound."

Bellamy can't believe his eyes. People were giving The Delinquents the recognition they deserved. 

"Wow. How does the band have no idea?" Bellamy questions himself. 

"Because they are lame and don't have any social media." Miller replies. "None of them market the band. That is why they have such a small following."

"I need to show O." Bellamy says as he grabs his phone.

"NO, not yet. I need your help first." Bellamy looks at his best friend with confusion.

"I’ve been thinking and I want to be the bands manager." 

"Okay. What do you need me for?"

"I need you to help me convince them to hire me. This could be serious if it’s done right. We both know that."

Bellamy knows that Miller could and would do a fucking amazing job. Miller had gone to school for a short time for business management but had to drop out because he didn't have the money to keep going. Bellamy knew that had he been able to continue Miller wouldn't be stuck being a security guard for a museum.

"Honestly, if you say you'd do it for free they'd say yes."

Miller grunted in annoyance.

"I don't want to do it for free. I want to pick up the traction they have on them right now and run with it. Make them money and in turn make myself some too." Miller sighs and looks at Bellamy with sad eyes. "I don't want to work as a security guard all my life. I know I am capable of being more.” 

Bellamy new how much asking for help was probably hurting his pride. Miller probably would always be like Bellamy. They had the I can do it all on my own attitude. 

"Okay, I can put in a good word for you. Make a great case as to why they'd benefit from your help. I don't know if they'd listen to me but I will try." Bellamy responds.

"You're not getting the picture here Bell. I think you need to join the band. A lot of these comments are about you. You’re the one positioning them intothespotlight” Miller's revelation surprises Bellamy. 

He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought or wished he was part of their band, because he had. But Bellamy knew he wasn't good for the band. He needed to be what his sister and Harper needed; not what he wanted to be. 

"I'm not gonna join and disrupt the magic they have going. If you'd see them like I have you wouldn't be asking me to join them." Bellamy says as he slams the laptop shut.

"Look, it's not that I don't think they aren't great because I do, but with you...”

"No. I won't ruin another thing in my sister and Harper's life. I will help you plead your case but I won't join and you will not bring it up." Bellamy says.

Miller shakes his head in frustration but complies to his best friends wishes. 

"We both know I'm nothing but trouble." Bellamy finally says as he places his head in hands.

"You're forgetting trouble is what makes rock and roll."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment if you liked what you've read! Until next time!


	5. We've been drowning for so long

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey!  
> It's been a while for sure but myself and @dearlyfantastical5511 are super excited about this chapter and hope y'all think it's worth the wait!  
> As always, we love hearing your thoughts so go wild in the comments section!  
> Until next time...

 

When she was little, Clarke had wondered what it might be like to speak underwater. She knew people who could do it. And she had supposed it wasn’t rocket science. You just open your mouth and try to form words but whenever she’d tried it, the water had just come rushing in and burnt throughout her airways. And then later, while she was still coughing and spluttering up the remnants of inhaled salt water, she’d still be lost as to how some people could speak below the surface.

 _Curiosity killed the cat_  Her mother had always said. Yet for some reason, death seemed too far away for Clarke to care.

“One of these days Griffin, you’ll be the one with the pounding head and we’ll just sit around and laugh”

“I’d expect nothing less, O. Coffee?”

Octavia nods her head but still walks over to help out, leaning over and around to reach the creamer. Clarke takes hers black, with two sugars to which O grimaces.

“I reckon we’re getting another gig” Octavia’s eyes sparkle with excitement and Clarke can’t help but smile shyly back

“Yeah?”

“This woman called me yesterday and asked if we could play”

“Where?”

“I think a bar in Brooklyn. The pay sounds shitty but at least we’ll be getting out there again, right?”

“Fine by me” Clarke shrugs, heading over to the island. O follows behind and places her mug onto a Pink Floyd coaster, stained with God only knows what.

“Jasper says he’ll be good to play. Dumb kid doesn’t look like he’s healing though”

“If he wants to play, he’ll play” Clarke laughs, over the sounds of Raven tuning her bass.

“Shut it, Raven! My head is about to explode!” They hear Monty holler from the other side of the house and they’re not surprised that that only makes Raven play louder.

A few seconds later, he comes stumbling in with his hair sticking up at all angles. He rubs his eyes naively and trips on his way over to the counter, almost dropping his laptop on the way. When Monty does reach them, he doesn’t look up before taking Clarke’s coffee and downing half of it and results in spluttering it over the surface, coughing through the bitterness.

“Jesus Clarke! What are you drinking? Bleach?”

She laughs taking her mug back, pushing Octavia’s in front of him instead.

“The music in your club was pretty sweet last night”

“Not mine, and not really a club” Clarke smirks but nods all the same, raising her mug

“Definitely the new regular” O agrees

“You liked the music too then?” Clarke says knowingly, thinking back to Lincoln’s face as he entered the bar, and how he only had eyes for a certain someone.

“Amongst other elements” The brunette gasps lightly, dropping her head as she slides her finger around the ring of the coaster.

“Other elements being Clarke’s hot boss,” Monty smirks.

“What’s happening with Clarke’s hot boss?” Bellamy comes walking in, his shoulders slumped and his expression one of confusion. There’s a sad glint in his eyes, maybe that’s just the lighting.

Maybe.

Clarke feels Octavia straighten up in her chair and the room silences.

“Clarke’s got a, um, date with him,” She flounders and pointedly ignores Clarke’s look of outrage.

“Right,” He’s facing the counter, making himself his own coffee so his expression is hidden. Clarke’s surprised to find she cares. No. She doesn’t care. And he takes his coffee, she thinks, black with two sugars.

“Clarke?” Raven appears in the doorway, one raised eyebrow and a sternness behind her eyes. Clarke can only shake her head. It’s not what you think. Jeez, dating hadn’t even crossed her mind since…

She kicks Octavia under the counter.

Monty hisses in pain. Oops.

Bellamy turns and comes over to the island to which they have gathered and leans across it, ignoring the empty stools that surround it. His eyelashes are drooping over his eyes and that mess of curls falls manically over his ears. She can feel her pulse.

“Miller’s had an idea,” He starts. “He wants to be your manager. Help you book gigs, organize your sets, maintain your platforms, that sort of thing. I think you should go for it O,”

He’s addressing his sister but is looking directly at Clarke.

“I don’t know Bell, we don’t have the kind of money to employ someone officially,”

“He wouldn’t be asking for too much to start with. And you know how difficult it is for bands to make a dent in the industry without an agent. It’d be an investment,”

“We can always think about it,” Monty says over the rim of his mug.

“It’s something to consider. He sees your potential. And he’s someone you trust, someone who wouldn’t screw you over,”

“What do you think Raven?” Octavia asks.

“I think it’s worth a shot. We’re making a bit of side money on the couple of gigs we’ve done. If we want to take this shit seriously, it might be a good idea.”

Clarke sits silently, watching her fingers tap against the cool ceramic.

“Clarke, your hands,” She hears opposite her, Bellamy’s voice filled with emotion for the first time. He’s concerned?

“What about them?” She looks up to him reaching for her and without thinking she gives him her left hand- the one she uses to play.

“Are they always like this?” He turns her fingers over in his own palm to reveal the dark scratches and pink tinge that line the pads of her fingertips.

“It happens when I play,”

His fingers are light and delicate over hers. She turns her hand and meets his touch. And then, like a shock, she flinches and wrenches her hand back. It’s sudden and the others look surprised but Octavia clears her throat and redirects the conversation, leaving a stunned Bellamy to stare at his empty hands.

“Tell Miller that if he’s serious, he should come to practice sometime,”

“So you’re in?” Bellamy asks, hopefully forgetting about the strange moment beforehand.

“We’ll think about it.” Is all his sister replies.

 

 

~BB~

 

The once loud kitchen is silent as Octavia and Bellamy stand side by side washing and drying dishes from breakfast. He can’t get rid of this nagging distance between them both. She’s standing three feet away and yet they may as well be miles apart. 

"So what’s all this about Clarke’s boss?" Bellamy breaks the silence, clearing his throat. 

He tries his hardest to sound nonchalant but as soon as he sees his sister quirking a brow at him he knows he sounded far too interested.

"Nothing," Octavia says as she continues to eye Bellamy.

“I thought-“

“Thought what Bell?” Her brows lift up higher and she stops, hands over the coffee mug and crosses her sudsy arms. Bellamy knows if he looks away from his sister she's gonna read into this. Instead, Bellamy keeps drying the mug and says,

“Well, I thought she wasn’t looking for…”

He can feel O’s smirk as she replies.

“How would you know?”

Bellamy feels his heat creep up his neck but he doesn't budge he keeps looking at his sister. 

“I guess she just seemed…”

“Spit it out, Bellamy,”

“She seemed… uninterested.” He struggles to find the word but there it is, on the tip of his tongue.

Octavia smiles brightly with a twinkle in her eye and lets out a small laugh as she picks up another mug and begins washing it.

“Lincoln’s a nice guy.” Octavia's voice holds the smallest hint of affection and then it sinks in.

“Wait, what?”

“What?”

Bellamy places the mug and the drying towel down. He turns to his sister. Now he gets to be the one scrutinizing.

“Since when were you on a first name basis with him?” His questions.

“Since last night.”

Octavia turns to him and stands up straighter. Her shoulders are squaring up ready for a fight. Her reaction pulls at Bellamy's heart. How did he get here? How was it that he'd ruined such a solid relationship and turned it into something so ready to break. Bellamy shakes his head and sighs; visibly deflating as he says,

“I’m not an idiot, O.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            

“I never said you were." 

Octavia turns her whole body and leans her back against the counter relaxing her stiff posture from moments earlier.

“Then don’t lie to me. You don’t have to do that." Bellamy follows his sister’s suit and leans against the counter shoulders pressing against one another. 

“I don’t want to.” Her voice is softer, calmer. "He’s nice Bellamy. I don’t know him that wel-"

"And yet?" He interrupts. 

“Jesus, Bell let me get to know a guy before I have to introduce him to my family." Octavia's tone isn't as harsh as he'd expected, just… done. Which somehow hurts more. 

Bellamy nods his head and wants to say more but as he looks to his little sister he can see that this guy has gotten a hold of her in a way that he can't understand. He feels a pang of jealousy well up inside of him. 

Bellamy had envied Octavia many times in his life, but this was the first time it had been because she had someone else in her life. Someone who she seemed to really like; someone who could be there for her the way he longed someone could be for him. He'd be lying if he said he didn't long to find somebody who gave a damn about what happened to him, who would look at him and see past all his fuck ups, and really understand him,  **all**  of him, and vice versa. And yet he knows he can’t find someone like that because he knows that he’d fuck it up as soon as things looked up. And he couldn’t do that to someone good enough to accept him.

So, instead of giving Octavia a lecture he gives a defeated sigh and wraps his arm around her shoulder bringing his lips to her head.

"Just be careful." He finally says and leaves, uncontrollably slamming the door on his way out. 

 

 

~CG~

 

Clarke sits, prepping her strings and tuning her guitar, trying to drown out the shouting over the wallows of her headphones. Nobody else is in the garage, nobody wanted to have to listen so they went out for bagels. She had decided to look at it logistically, knowing she needed the time to knuckle down on her most recent song.

This one is the first she’s showing that’s directly about Lexa. She thought it was time. Harper had spoken to her a couple days before about the potentials of heartbreak in the rock industry and Clarke’s tired of running from her own music.

She’s still keeping the worst ones locked away in the depths of her masses of sheet music. She’s scraping the surface of the layers of Lexa’s story; peeling off the bandages.

The sounds of the siblings arguing are muffled over her headphones like she’s sat in a club bathroom listening to the drowning basses of club music. It doesn’t bother Clarke. She’d grown up listening to her parents fight nightly. She’s practically immune to it now.

 _I need to fix my damned writing,_ she thinks, looking to the dog-eared scraps of paper that encircle her on the floor.

There’s a door slam on the opposite side of the house, loud enough to tear down the walls and Clarke doesn’t even flinch at the noise. Octavia takes some time to come in, and when she does her hair is down to hide her face and her cheeks and eyes are a bit blotchy. There are raindrops that scatter her eyelashes, slightly smudging what little makeup she’d been wearing.

Some people look fierce when they’re broken.

Clarke had learned that over the years. Maybe she’s one of those few, maybe. Octavia looks fierce.

Clarke looks back to her guitar before she speaks.

“I can’t get this progression, you want to help?”

“The Clarke Griffin can’t figure something out?!” Her voice is wet.

“Shhhh. It can be our secret, right?”

“You’ll have to owe me,”

“Name your price,”

Clarke feels the drummer slump down next to her wordlessly as they start playing.

 

 

The sound of Jasper’s fist going through the skin of one of Octavia’s drums makes Clarke wince. She hears him cry out, realizing that his hand isn’t all that recovered. Luckily enough, O went out to take a call five minutes beforehand so at least he’s not in danger of losing his other hand. Yet. When she finds out about those drums though, Clarke’s not sure she wants to be there for that.

Clarke sighs and makes her way over, taking the punctured snare out of his hands.

“Chill, it’s a hard riff. You aren’t going to get it first time.”

“You can hardly talk,”

“Just because I wrote it doesn’t mean it’s easy,”

He sighs dramatically before slumping down next to Raven on a bean bag. Raven looks to Clarke and smiles lightly out of reassurance. Clarke nods back, an unspoken conversation.

“I’m just fed up of feeling like the weak link,”

“Don’t be an idiot, you aren’t a weak link,” Raven says, kicking his ankle softly.

“You say that but I know what you all think of me,” He puts his head in his hands, pushing back the goggles so they fall off his head.

“We think you’re just as much a part of the band as anyone else,” Clarke says, shaking her head as she tries to find a place to hide the broken drum. She’ll have to replace it before Octavia can find out.

“I’ve heard what Harper says to you. She doesn’t think I can do it.”

Her and Monty had snuck out to get coffee when Octavia left. They must have thought no-one had noticed how their fingertips were touching. Maybe they hadn’t either.

“Harper talks before she thinks sometimes.”

They all know that. And that’s something Clarke has come to love about her. But that’s the thing about Harper; you need to have thick skin when you’re around her. Luckily enough, Clarke was pretty solid on that front, sometimes it’s just hard to realize that other people aren’t.

“And she just wants Bellamy back. He’s her family, and this band is the definition of family,”

They hear the garage door close and Clarke looks up to see Octavia walk in, heavily. She shoots the drummer a look, hoping to ask if things are okay without actually iterating such.

Octavia nods gruffly and Clarke’s not quite sure what to do with that information.

“Jasper we’re all very different people. Hell, look at me and Raven, we’re polar opposites. And yet the thing that we all have in common is we play from the heart. Rock isn’t always about technical accuracy and you know that. You play from here,” Clarke says resting her hand lightly over the left side of his chest. “and that’s enough for us. It should be enough for you.”

“Clarke I want it to be,”

“But?”

Jasper sits for a moment, considering a way to fight back but after minutes of flooded silence, he seems to hit a wall.

“Can we go again?” He asks instead and Clarke relishes in her own smile, noting it down as one of few she hasn’t had to force.

 

 

“So Clarke, I was thinking the other day about those lyrics I heard you writing down?”

“I’m not sure I remember?” She answers O as they’re packing up.

“Yeah you were in here after rehearsals and I was taking all the mugs out. I don’t think you even noticed me, you were wearing your headphones and you were writing pretty intensely.”

“Still gonna have to narrow it down for me O”

“Okay, um, it went a bit like this,”

Octavia tries to hum something to her feet, awkwardly and Clarke can’t follow the tune. She tries not to giggle but she can see O starting to crack and the drummer sighs through a smile.

“Okay, so I’m not the best singer. Could you just give me a hand here? I think I’m onto something.”

Clarke laughs then reaches for her folder of sheet music, leafing through anything that might sound the slightest bit like what O had tried to sing.

“How about this?” Clarke asks, landing on something she’s hopeful about.

Octavia scans through it and starts tapping her foot onto the stone floor, a beat that Clarke manages to pick up.

“You think that’d work?”

“It’s been playing in my mind all day. It’s so different from what we’ve been playing recently.”

“Sure, let’s try it out.”

Octavia positions herself at her drum set. Clarke can see the exact moment that she sees the recognition of her lost snare dawn on her.

“Something’s missing,”

“Is it?” Clarke feigns innocence, scanning the kit from the other side of it, fingers crossed behind her back. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“So something like this?” Octavia moves on absentmindedly and begins to play a beat.

“Yeah,” Clarke reaches for her guitar and begins to play the initial progression. “Wait, let’s take it down a key,”

“Okay sing what you’ve got so far,”

“Babe, where the hell did we go wrong?  
Say say, we've been drowning for so long  
Do you remember how we used to love the rain?  
Hey, we'd go out and we'd run wild”

She starts humming and at the pause in the lyrics, Octavia stops playing and gets up to move over to the other wall. Miller had fitted a large chalkboard to it a while back- close to the time Clarke had joined the band- and they used it while they were brainstorming.

Octavia scrubs off Harper’s neat cursive and replaces it with her own scrawl. Unbalanced and almost illegible but it’s O all over and Clarke watches intently as she starts to fill in the gaps.

“That’d be a perfect bridge. Still sticking with the E minor right?”

“Sure,”

Clarke tries it out and they play around with it for a while, slotting in the chorus that Clarke had written weeks ago. Once the song is finished, Octavia looks sated. As though she’d just gotten something that had been haunting her off her chest.

“Thanks, Clarke, I needed this.”

“No thank you. I’d never have finished that drum set on my own.”

“What can I say? We make a pretty good team.”

“Sure do,”

Octavia’s quiet for a moment, biting her lip as they make their way into the kitchen.

“You okay there?”

“Yeah, I think we should talk about something though,”

“Shoot,” Clarke says, trying for nonchalance but somewhere in the back of her mind, her thoughts spiral and she begins to dread the worst.

“That phone call I took earlier, it was Miller,”

“Bellamy’s friend?”

“Yeah, the one who wants to manage the band,”

“What was he saying,”

“I invited him to come to a rehearsal tomorrow. Everyone seems to be behind him joining us so I said we’d give him a trial run.”

“Makes sense. We could use some sort of organization,”

“Right, it’s not him I’m worried about.”

It dawns on Clarke then. She’s not talking about Miller, she’s talking about her brother. The ever-present mystery that was Bellamy Blake.

“He thinks Bellamy should be part of the band?”

“He was definitely fighting his cause.” Octavia is staring into her fridge but Clarke can hear her apprehension.

“You don’t seem so keen,”

“I just don’t know anymore Clarke. I don’t know him. We used to dream of playing together, making music **together**. But now it just feels different.”

Clarke stays quiet while Octavia makes her way back to the counter and they both lean on it, shoulder to shoulder.

“I want to know what you think, Clarke.”

“Why me?”

“Because I have known you for a mere couple of months and yet I trust you more and more each day. I can count on one hand the people I can rely on undoubtedly and you’re part of that now Clarke.”

“O, there’s so much you don’t know about me,” Clarke whispers, low beneath her breath and suddenly a wave of guilt rushes over her.

“And you have your reasons for not telling me. But that doesn’t change the fact that I trust you, Clarke.”

“From what I can see, Bellamy cares about you more than any normal person cares about anyone,”

Octavia coughs out a snicker at that.

“And the way he plays is really something special. And don’t you ever tell him I said this but I, well I, um, I really like his writing. Has he always been a metal player?”

“Not before his other band,”

Octavia and Clarke realize her slip up simultaneously.

“Not before his band,” O corrects herself sombrely.

“I think that’s your answer,” Clarke says quietly, a knowing smile spreading across his face. “You already think of him as a delinquent,”

“Maybe I do,”

“Harper has been singing his praises for weeks,”

“She has,” Octavia nods her head in agreement.

 “But you are forgetting one thing,”

“What’s that?”

“We don’t actually know how Bellamy feels about all of this. He’s not an idiot and he’s not a child so if he wants to be part of the band we can talk about it patiently and **calmly**.” Clarke emphasizes, shooting O a side-eye that screams fondness. “Just talk to your brother O, before you pop a vessel over-thinking all of this.”

She reaches for her purse and the folder containing their finished sheet music, looking towards the door. She’s almost there when a small, warm hand slips over her wrist and she’s pulled back.

“Thank you, Clarke,”

“It’s all good, O.”

“I mean it,” Her eyes are so sincere that it hurts, the emotion pouring out of the brunette so silently that it blinds Clarke.

“I trust you too. I just take a bit longer than most people,” she confesses.

And then she’s out the door, the small smile creeping onto her face as she walks. She’s made progress today. Clarke counts the steps between her and the subway, each footprint leaving behind memories of stardust.

 

 

~BB~

 

Bellamy leans lazily against the bar as he watches Clarke. Her hair is sticking to the side of her face as her hands fly around in expression. Her crystal blue eyes are wide and filled with glassy emotion. She’s in the middle of telling him and Miller a story about how Raven kicked Jaspers ass for blowing up their kitchen. 

Her voice, even when telling some pointless anecdote, still has that harmonic edge. It’s soothing in the bar filled with white noise. He finds himself swallowing the lump in his throat, shaking out the accumulating thoughts of the blonde sat opposite. She’s pretty. That’s it. This isn’t some pathetic schoolboy crush.

Bellamy's hand finds itself brushing the hair that was stuck to Clarke's face aside.

Instantly, Clarke's eyes widen a bit more at the intimacy and Bellamy watches as a pink tint fills her cheeks. 

"Uh...so I find Raven in the kitchen screaming at Jasper and spraying _him_ with the fire extinguisher; instead of the fucking fire on the stove." Clarke continues on with her story as she gives Bellamy a small smile. A small barely there smile graces his lips in return. Bellamy knows that if Clarke hadn't been smiling at him she wouldn't have seen it. 

His insides are buzzing and he knows it is a mix of the alcohol and something else he can’t quite name. 

"I just can't believe you actually let him use your kitchen," Miller says as he side-eyes Bellamy.

Bellamy feels heat creep up his neck and into his cheeks. He quickly brings the whiskey he'd been holding in his hand to his lips and drinks.

"Yeah, I didn't know him that well yet," Clarke responds with a small shrug.

"I know you don't know me that well either, but I can promise you that as the band's manager I will never burn down your kitchen." Miller teases Clarke earning him a laugh and playful shove.

"In all seriousness. I am going to do everything I can to get you guys everything you all deserve." 

Bellamy's chest swells with pride and genuine happiness.  

"Well, everyone feels like you are the right fit." She squeezes Miller's shoulder with reassurance. 

"It also helps that you've got this guy" Clarke tilts her head in Bellamy's direction with a wink. "backing you up. He put in some really persuasive words in for you."

Bellamy watches as his best friend eyes shine with gratitude. The swell of thankfulness quickly brightens into something Bellamy doesn't want him to say but Miller beats him.

"You know I think-"

"Don't listen to him. He's drunk." Bellamy interrupts, his voice raising an octave. 

Clarke's brow rises and her eyes turn mischievous.

"No, I want to hear what he has to say. Especially, now that it has you antsy."

Bellamy feels his chest tighten with apprehension. He doesn’t want to be here for this. He can't. Bellamy looks at his best friend and shakes his head. Whether it's because of the embarrassment or shame in the small hope that fills a tiny piece of his chest Bellamy walks away. Leaving Clarke and Miller behind along with their heeding their calls.

Suddenly the bar is booming with a loudness he can't drown out. It’s like a microphone screeching feedback as loud it can and Bellamy rushes to escape the sound. He makes his way over to the restrooms and then something punches him in the chest.

Bellamy looks with horror on the entanglement of his sister and Clarke’s bald-headed boss as he devours her face. He feels like he’s going to be sick. 

"What the fuck O!" Bellamy finds himself yelling. 

He hadn't planned on it but he can’t arrange what’s going on in his head, let alone what he’s saying out loud. 

Octavia's face is filled with surprise as she pulls herself away from her companion. When her eyes meet Bellamy's they quickly morph to anger. Her dark irises narrow on him and Bellamy can feel her temper in an instant. Usually, Bellamy would try his hardest to keep from meeting the deadly wrath that was his sister's temper but tonight he doesn’t care. 

"Mind your own damn business, Bell." Her voice is hard and on the verge of shouting.

He can see that she is trying her hardest not to make a scene in front of the man before her. Which seems to trigger something in Bellamy. 

"I would if you weren’t doing shit like this!" He spits, staggering forward. 

"I'm an adult. I can do whatever and whoever I want! You aren't my Dad. You are my brother." He can see she’s losing her restraint now and she’s wrenched herself away from the tattooed man whose lips are still shining- Bellamy gags at the image. 

"Okay." He stands up straighter and squares his shoulders. "Don’t pretend I haven’t been the one looking after you for the second half of your life. Don’t pretend I haven’t had to be your parent.” The last word is laced with venom and bitterness.

Octavia's dark eyes are starting to glisten and he can see that there is hurt behind them but he can't bring himself to care. The anger boiling through his blood is drowning the noise and it's keeping him together.

"I didn't ask you to be." Her voice is strong but there's a soreness that seeps through.

"I didn't have a choice. I had to raise you and be an adult way before-“ The words cut out and Bellamy tries to compose himself. “You don't think I wanted to just be your brother? That I didn't want to be a kid?!" He yells at her with years of pent up anger. 

Anger that his mother made him become adult at an early age. That his whole life he lived with the mantra 'My sister, my responsibility'. Somewhere in the back of his clouded mind, he knows his anger at the moment is misplaced. He knows that Octavia doesn't deserve the treatment and humiliation he’s bestowing upon her.

"Well sorry, I was such a burden." 

Bellamy scoffs at her words. He might be angry and bitter but he never saw his little sister as a burden. She’s got to know that. Since when didn’t she know that?

He can’t take this anymore, the pressure, the heat, the loudness is too much. He doesn’t know where he finds the words.

"You're not a burden, but you are definitely becoming a disappointment with the way you throwing yourself at him like some, some whore." Bellamy's last word comes out slurred, but it doesn't matter. It has the same effect as if he'd said it clear and sober. 

Octavia's looking at him with hurt and confusion on her face. Instantly, Lincoln is standing in front of O.

"Woah. I think you need to step away." He says to Bellamy in a calm voice, but his eyes are anything but calm. 

"I don't know who the fuck you are and how you think you fit into this, but this doesn't concern you.  **This**  is a family matter." Bellamy straightens his posture and stares down the beefy man before him.

Something inside him is screaming that this is wrong. But he can’t back down now.

"Don't bother. He's drunk." Her words are directed at the hulking man. "It’s not a family matter Bellamy. This isn’t _family._ I can’t see _family_." She shoves him before finishing. “You’re just a stranger.” Octavia's words are laced with a steely coldness that causes him to look at her again.

The anger that had been fueling his erratic behavior quickly dissipates and Bellamy sobers up at not only the words that fill the small space between them; but also the tears that have now fallen from her hardened gaze. 

"O. Shit."

"Save it," Octavia says as she pushes past him.

Clarke's boss steps in front of Bellamy and is gazing at him with anger scrawled across his face.

"Look, I respect that you’re only trying to look after your sister but next time you start throwing shit like that around, I'll fucking kick your ass. Got it?" He's looking at Bellamy man to man, eye to eye, and he can see in them that he means it. Bellamy slowly nods his head and the realization that O doesn't need him anymore is unbearable. 

Lincoln brushes passed him but he doesn't feel it. Bellamy's head is whirling with the things he'd just unfairly laid on Octavia. Guilt and regret fill his chest and he clenches his jaw and fist in agitation. 

Bellamy nods his head and Lincoln goes into the crowd after Octavia revealing Clarke. 

 _Fuck._  

Clarke comes charging toward Bellamy and shoves him into the restroom. It's small and dingy but he's seen and been in worse. He turns around to see Clarke lock the door behind them. When she turns around she's looking at him with something different. 

Clarke's usual anger had been replaced. Now, as he looks into her blue expressive eyes and they’re filled with disappointment.

"How much did you hear?" His question comes out like a sigh.

"I'm pretty sure all of it."

Bellamy shoves a hand through his hair angrily. 

"Why are you being such a dick to her? She's your sister. Your family. From what I understand she's all you got."

"She's better off without me."

Clarke lets out a sigh that is thick with annoyance. 

"Come on. You know that's not true." She says.

Bellamy can't stand to look at her any longer. The weight of her eyes on him is unbearable. 

"Look, Clarke, we don't know each other. I don’t have a clue about who you are, and you don't about me. That's all fucking fine when you mind your business, but the moment you come into mine it's not." 

Bellamy averts his gaze but doesn’t miss the hurt that flashes quickly across her face.

"You're unbelievable. Do you actually understand how shitty you are?" Clarke's voice is filled with anger.

A small heavy ball weighs against Bellamy's chest the moment her words hit him. He feels like he’s suffocating.

"Yeah, I do actually." 

Bellamy runs a hand through his greasy curls and finally looks back at Clarke, straight into her sapphire eyes.

"I'm no good. I bring nothing but chaos. If you guys were smart you'd stay away from me." 

Clarke shoves Bellamy against the wall as she almost yells, but doesn’t quite lose it. She’s too cold for that.

"You fucking martyr!"

Bellamy is stunned by Clarke's sudden outburst. Looking down at her with her eyes ablaze and her cheeks red with anger Bellamy thinks he can see her. Really see her now, in all her stainless might. They’re standing so close together now; it’s terrifying.

"You're acting out because of what Miller was talking to me about. He thinks you'd be a great asset to the band." Clarke shakes her head and gives Bellamy another push. “And you know how well you’d fit in. We all do. I just can’t understand why you need to keep torturing yourself.”

Clarke gives Bellamy one last look of disappointment before she is out the door. Bellamy stays slumped against the wall as he feels the shame of what he'd said to both Clarke and Octavia. He needs to get out of here and stop the aching in his chest. Bellamy steps out of the restroom and makes his way to the exit. His hands shake against the door. He turns back to find his eyes watching the table his sisters' friends sit around. 

Raven's egging Jasper on as she shoves a shot into his hands. The poor boy looks like he wants to puke but Bellamy can see he’s not gonna back down. He watches as Harper smiles at Monty with eyes sparkling and Monty ducking his head a bit with a faint flush to his cheeks. Clarke and Octavia are both leaning against one another looking a little tired with their heads forming some sort of tepee silhouette and they’re smiling genuinely at one another. 

And that’s it. It’s their family now, not his. They are the team. He can’t fuck that dynamic up, not when they’re on their way to actually making it. 

 

 

The darkness had followed Bellamy like a cloak encapsulating the whole narrative throughout his life. It presented itself in his mother's vacant eyes, neglected bills lain across the kitchen table, scattered empty bottles of liquor, the gnawing hunger pains, and countless sleepless nights filled with pain and anxiety.

Bellamy could count on his hand the only few things in life that brightened things. His family which consisted of O, Harper, and Miller, making music, and now begrudgingly Clarke, or at least her writing. And maybe, just maybe, her eyes when they’re glimmering in the dimly lit garage. Bellamy might not know Clarke but her music showed him who she was, even if  _she_  wouldn't. 

And now he’d fucked that up too.

He’s trapped. He’s lost. And he needs something stronger.

Bellamy grabs two white pills from the clear plastic bag that he’d buried weeks ago deep into his sock drawer. He places them on the counter along-side a bottle of whiskey. Bellamy feels himself drowning. Like every fucked up choice or happenstance is filling his lungs, and he can't feel anything but the numbing sensation that comes after too much pain. Too many fucking emotions.

With the blade from his pocket knife, he smashes the pills and lines them up into one neat row. Bellamy's hands quiver and his body tingles with the want to feel anything other than worthlessness. 

"Fuck!" He screams and grabs the bottle of whiskey. He brings the bottle to his lips and takes in a huge gulp. It burns all the way down but still doesn't mask the pain in his chest.

Why had he yelled at O? He loves her and needs her to be happy, and it seems like that Lincoln guy has the potential to make her happy.

He pulls out a twenty dollar bill and rolls it up. His thoughts running back to Octavia's angry tear-filled eyes. An ache fills his chest and he tried to keep the darkness from reaching him and encapsulating him completely. But it was a losing battle and Bellamy can feel the want for more than a numbing pain to fill him.

"I want to be more than this." He whispers to nothing. He places the twenty against the counter and over the white powder and sniffs the counterfeit happiness.

As the powder fills him and the line is done the tears he'd kept at bay break through and a sob escapes.

Just as he feels his walls crash down, the door slams, ringing throughout the room and he looks up to see Clarke.  The look on her face is enough to sober him and the faux bliss to dissipate. 

"Jesus- Fuck! What do you think you’re doing?" Bellamy's voice is loud with shock and feels so far away.

He quickly makes his way toward Clarke, a clouded autopilot taking the lead.

"I could ask you the same thing." Clarke's words are hard.

He wipes his nose trying to get the feeling of the dust out of his nose.

"Get out!" 

Clarke takes a step back as Bellamy comes closer, pinning her against the door. It’s a mirrored effected from hours earlier. 

"What are you doing Bellamy?" Her question isn't harsh. It's soft and filled with concern. He laughs to himself cynically. When has Clarke ever been soft?

"What does it look like Princess?"

He watches as her face contorts and she searches his face.

"Does O know? Harper?"

"No." His answer is void of any emotion.

It seems to light a fire under Clarke. 

"So, what? You were gonna keep this a secret? How?" 

"I have it under control."

Clarke scoffs. 

"Right. Of course, you do. That's why you’re getting high and blaming everyone around you for it."

Bellamy's chest pangs and this time the pain is more intense.

"Don't you dare act like you know anything about me."

"Oh, but I think I do. This habit is why you’re back, isn't it? You became a liability to your old band."

There she went reading him like a book. He'd expect this from Octavia but not Clarke. They didn’t fucking know each other.

 "Un-fucking-believable and you don't even deny it."

Clarke moves trying to turn around but Bellamy places a hand on her cheek stilling her. Her eyes widen and her cheeks are tinted pink. Her skin is soft and gentle and he wants nothing more than to apologize. He wants to promise he can try harder, do better, be better. But he can’t.

No one knows the exact location of a black hole’s event horizon. The point of no return doesn’t have a grid reference. Bellamy’s guessing he’s found it.

"At least I am not hiding who I am from you. Here you go, Clarke. Welcome to me and my fucking head. I’m showing you who I am. Why can't you?" Bellamy's voice shakes as a whisper and his face is hovering over Clarke’s. Her eyes are glassy and he can see she's scared. Somewhere deep down.

"Excuse me?" Clarke's voice turns hard and she shoves Bellamy's hand away, breaking the intense spell he’d been under. "If this is who you really are, I don't want to know you. Which means I sure as hell don't want you to know me."

Bellamy feels as if the wind has been knocked clear out of his body. His heart feels like it's in his stomach. He's sixteen again being dumped for being the worthless boy who comes from the wrong side of the city.

But it’s different this time because he knows it’s his fault.

"You know Clarke, you walk around the city with your pathetic little headphones and expect the world to be exactly as you want it. Sitting up there in your ivory tower looking down on the people who have actually gone through shit. Who have had to look their fuck-ups in the eye and deal with it? Prove to twats like you that we aren’t nothing. We aren’t worthless." 

"Well, you sure are doing your best to prove twats like me wrong Bellamy." Her voice is laced with sarcasm.

"You don’t know anything."

"No, Bellamy. You don’t know anything. Your sister and your friends sit back there fighting for you to become a delinquent. I fight!" Her words are loud and she jabs him with her index finger with each word.

"Oh, you were fighting Clarke?! Fighting for what? Because you don’t seem like the type, kid."

"The type of what"

"To have my back, to let me in and be your friend." He knows the words are untrue the moment they leave his mouth but God is he hurt. So, he continues on. "Because God forbid the Ice princess lets the walls around her heart melt."

Clarke's quiet and her eyes are red and shiny. He can see she's holding back tears. 

"Is this what you call looking your fuck-ups in the eye. Hiding out at your only friend’s apartment, snorting pills as soon as you hit a bump?".

The ball in his throat feels the size of a golf ball.

"It’s the best I can do" His words are rough and shaky.

"Bullshit it’s the best you can do. You have a family and you’re too busy dwelling on the past to acknowledge your future." 

"What future Clarke?"

"Yours!"

"Stop." He quietly says.

"Stop what?"

"Pretending like you see right through me. Pretending you care about me. Pretending you're gonna stick around long enough to have the right to tell me what I’m fucking up." The tears he'd kept at bay push one lone tear out and it trickles down his face. Clarke's hand shakily makes its way to Bellamy's face and she lightly brushes the tear away. 

A shiver runs up Bellamy's spine and in that moment as he watches her, he knows that no matter where they stood; he'd always do whatever he could to make sure she'd never look at him like this again.

"Well, clearly I do because this, this is fucking it up." Clarke's words aren't harsh anymore. They are soft once again and she is looking at him with sad eyes.

"What do you want from me?" 

"Nothing Bellamy. I want nothing. I’m just tired of being disappointed." Her hand caresses his face and her thumb rubs his cheek softly as she gives him a small but broken smile. And then she is gone, leaving Bellamy to his own emotions. Emotions he can't handle. So, he does the one thing he never thought he'd do.

"Kane. I need your help."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you've enjoyed this chapter! Let us know your thoughts in comment section below!


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